Context:

I just got back from Spain where I reread Franny and Zooey while sipping gazpacho in a hammock and it made me want to write but also to never write again because how can anyone ever come close to Salinger’s brilliance wow.

Preamble:

The return journey was almost rough enough to undo all the relaxation of the holiday. Certainly not the sunrise-from-the-deck-and-sea-breeze-in-my-hair final scene I’d envisaged. After days of perfect, clear waters, with only the gentlest waves reminding us we weren’t swimming in an infinity pool, a storm descended on the island just in time for our departure. Not a terrific storm, nothing spectacular, just threatening grey skies, menacing gusts of wind, and enough waves to make the 7am ferry feel like 30 minutes of fairground hell, even under the influence of Kwells travel sickness pills. We came off green and pasty, had an emotional reunion with solid ground and took a speeding cab to the airport, where we had so much time to kill we lost track of it completely and very almost missed our flight.

Excuses:

This month’s Substack — i.e. this email you are reading right now— is almost rough enough to undo 4.5 years worth of high-calibre content. It’s certainly not the delightful new song I was imagining when I promised you a ‘tune in June’ last month. I’m not sure why. The holiday made me lazy? I’m no longer convinced by the original premise of sharing half-baked work on Sunday mornings? Of being less precious, less precocious? Recording an album turns me into a secretive person? Whatever the excuse, my sincere apologies to new subscribers with high expectations. I’ll take each unsubscribe as well-deserved punishment for what is about to transpire.

Crux:

Our son Milo turned 5 while we were away. This may have contributed to the obsession he developed with one particular Jonathan Richman song, which he asked to hear multiple times on every drive to the beach. And to sing multiple times on every drive back home… So to mark this momentous birthday — (and, yes, as a meagre place-filler while I stall for time before whatever it is that is eventually coming and potentially worth waiting for) — I share with you a car recording of JF & Lail & Milo singing My Little Kookenhaken by The Modern Lovers.

Disclaimer:

This is not half-baked work. This is raw dough. And missing key ingredients. Like a band. And an ending. This is not Family Von Trapp. This is approximated lyrics and croaky voices. This is accidental key changes while driving down a dirt road with the windows down. This is one full minute of outsider art, starring the boy who told us in no uncertain terms that good singing = high singing. Please enjoy. It doesn’t get better than this. Except maybe for the original.

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So long, farewell,

Lail

p.s. This is my 99th Substack. See you at the jubilee…

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Hello March!

I’m going to keep this short because I’ve seen such excellent shorts this past month. I hadn’t watched a short film in many a long year, but somehow I now have three gems to recommend. They’re all shorter than an episode of ~insert your preferred end-of-day comfort series here~ and I encourage you to seek them out. I don’t actually want to say too much about them because they’re each so wonderfully surprising.

1. A Friend Of Dorothy - Written and directed by Lee Knight and starring Miriam Margolyes. Perfect beginning to end. (on Disney +)

2. Big Man - Produced by and starring Stormzy. Shot on iPhone 16. Totally delightful and touching. (on YouTube)

3. The Singers - Directed by Sam A. Davis and based on an 1852 short story by Turgenev. I laughed, I cried! (on Netflix)

I just tried to choose my favourite and failed. I love them all. Little nuggets of life and connection. Tell me what you think.

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Ok that was my short lived career as a short film critic.

The Songs Of Joni Mitchell hits the road again this week with sold out shows in London’s Southbank Centre and Leeds’ Brudenell Social Club. See the poster below for more dates coming up. And those of you in France and Germany can look out for the TV broadcast of our Paris show on ARTE Concerts later this month!

Until soon,

Lail x

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Regretfully, having already postponed December’s letter from the first Sunday of the month to the last Sunday of the year (which is today), I now have to concede that my plan is not going to plan. Because who can sing with a hand-me-down kids’ virus?! Merry Christmas! Never mind. I owe you a song. Maybe a duet. Maybe even next Sunday for the first letter of next year? Maybe. No promises. I can’t keep them like I used to. Never work with children or animals. And don’t let them borrow your phone…

To lengthen the list of promises I may or may not keep, here are some New Year’s resolutions for 2026:

1. Don’t make promises.

2. Don’t get sick.

3. Don’t read the news more than 3 times a day.

4. Cook more soup. Buy a ladle.

5. Throw at least 3 parties.

6. Read all the books in the pile.

7. Write one book for someone else’s future pile.

8. Write 1-10 good songs. Tie them with a bow.

9. Defrost the freezer.

10. Say cheesy things “be grateful for every single day” and believe them.

Also for 2026, currently accepting recommendations for:

1. Movies/TV Shows (low peril content)

2. Small house plants (low maintenance)

3. Excellent, luxurious, expensive, high-end sofa beds (low cost)

4. Duet cover songs (lower expectations for this being ready for next week)

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A Very Happy New Year To You All! See you on the other side,

Lail x

Meanwhile I should draw your attention to next year’s third second Sunday of the month, Sunday 8th March 2026, which is International Women’s Day, when The Songs Of Joni Mitchell will reunite for a special one-off performance at The Queen Elizabeth Hall in London’s Southbank Centre. Tickets going faster than 2025…

Ticket & Info

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The Little Mermaid is the first film I ever saw in the cinema. It was 1989 and I was almost 6. A terrible experience thanks to the terrifying Ursula. Many years later I saw a diver catch a real octopus with his bare hand and bite its head off to kill it. No less haunting. Many more years later I sang “Under The Sea” from the film’s soundtrack as the opening song in my set at a festival. There was a logical reason for this. A nautical theme or something. It went down well with the daytime crowd of still-high-from-the-previous-night revellers.

Recently, as is too often the trigger for these foggy notions, I started singing the song to my “3-almost-4” year old. Obviously skipping over the verses about the fish being beaten, fried and eaten in fricassée . The lyrics are fantastic, truly inspired rhymes and ideas. However, children ask a lot of questions. Possibly all children, and especially ours. So when 3-almost-4 asked me about the chorus — (directly after a mind-boggling conversation about how an asteroid took away all the dinosaurs and then a fixeroid brought in all the people) — you must excuse me for having gotten momentarily confused. Under the sea? Wait. Under the sea??? Shouldn’t that be inside the sea? Or under the waves? What even is under the sea? Isn’t that just… sand?

Dear ChatGPT, what is under the sea? The lowest layer of the ocean is home to the most hostile conditions on Earth. There is no light, the pressure is extreme, and the temperatures near freezing. Animals that live in this deep-sea zone include basket stars, seapigs, and seaspiders. Some crustaceans living at these depths have evolved without eyes.

So no bubbles or blowfish or Calypso bands…

I have since been brought back to my senses. Assured that the common use of ‘under the sea’ refers to anything under the surface of the sea, and encouraged to spend more time in the company of 30-almost-40 year olds. Sebastian the Crab, I’m sorry I doubted you. And even if it was a dodgy line and I could diss Disney for lazy songwriting, would this fishy subject matter really be worthy of this month’s entire Substack? Absolutely not. Should I move swiftly on to my second realisation of the week? Alright then:

An Audible subscription costs £7.99 per month, with which you get 1 audiobook credit. A Spotify subscription meanwhile costs £11.99 per month for ALL MUSIC EVER MADE EVER.

Questions:

1. Am I in the wrong profession?

2. Should I be devotin’ full time to floatin’?

3. Have you listened to our new song?

4. Are you ready for another new song and big announcement mid-month?

5. Should I record an EP of some songs I’ve been sharing here on Substack?

If you answered YES to at least 4 of the above you will have a very lucky year.

LONDON SHOW - GET YOUR TICKETS!

NEW SONG - LISTEN NOW!

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And if you feel you haven’t reached your word quota for today, The Songs Of Joni Mitchell crew wrote about our favourite Joni songs for Far Out magazine. You can read it here:

FAR OUT!

Goodbye.

Lail x

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The Songs Of Joni Mitchell is hitting the road again this autumn in the UK, Ireland and Paris!

PRESALE TICKETS & INFO

Some of you will remember I originally produced and curated this show for Joni’s 80th at London’s Roundhouse last spring. We then packed it into a suitcase for a mini tour in the autumn. And now we’re doing it all again, bigger and better! For this new incarnation of the show I’ll be joined by Jesca Hoop, Kate Stables (This Is The Kit) and Richard Sears on piano, as well as very special guests Lisa Hannigan & Loah for the London Shepherd’s Bush Empire and Dublin Olympia Theatre shows. Too good to be true.

We even have a website now, imagine! Check it out for more info and to sign up for presale ticket access:

SONGSOF.CO.UK

What else? Last month I flew to Baden Baden to play for a mayor and took the train to Bournemouth to play for a vicar. It’s good to be playing again. Thanks for your enthused messages about Sweet & Low. You can expect another JF & Lail song amongst your Easter eggs this month…

Ok that’s enough for now. Spread the word about Joni, but not ‘til 9am!

Lail x

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I’m deep inside my novel, pulling it apart and sellotaping it back together. I think it’s going well. Maybe I’ll share a chapter in the new year. Also in 2025: duo album, solo EP, and a big announcement for The Songs Of Joni Mitchell… hold me to it!

First up, for those of you in London - or with fine friends in London - our annual Christmas Show is coming up fast. We’ve decided on an early Dylan song for this year’s cover. Not quite as on the nose as previous year’s Blue Christmas or Everything Is One Big Christmas Tree, but JF insists it has a “nice wintery feel” (I always assumed it was set in summer…) Season aside, I hope we do it as much justice as Timothée Chalamet. And we’ll no doubt revive the festive numbers too... Come All Ye Faithful! December 17th! 15 Tickets Left!!

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For today, in barefaced deflection, because I’m too busy writing to be writing, I want to direct you to two new Substacks I’m greatly enjoying. Both, coincidentally, are written by New Yorkers. I wonder if they know each other. Probably! I miss New York. Or as my 3-year-old Milo confidently calls it: Yew Nork.

I’ve known for many years, the legendary founder of Paper Magazine, for which I was lucky enough to write tour diaries and even perform live - in the Paper HQ kitchen - in front of a big mural saying Eat Me. You’ll soon hear about her book called STUFF which I’m so excited to get my hands on. Meanwhile her Substack is called MORE STUFF and is a treasure trove of forward-thinking nostalgia:

This Is MORE STUFF - (Back 2 the future)

A WEEKLY PEEK BACKWARD AT 3 PIVOTAL DECADES OF CULTURAL CHAOS I WITNESSED AND HELPED CREATE IN THE GREATEST CITY ON EARTH: NEW YORK!!!!! FUNNY HOW SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE. FROM THE DESK OF KIM HASTREITER, CO-FOUNDER OF PAPER MAGAZINE & AMAZING UNLIMITED.

By Kim Hastreiter

I don’t know , she is one of the few strangers I follow on instagram. I don’t even know how I first came across her brilliant artwork, I just remember I instantly loved it. Her aesthetic and way of thinking are delightful to me, and her Substack, Non-Faulty Phenomena, promises to be no less fascinating. Waiting for the right song to convince her to collaborate on a music video!

Non-Faulty Phenomena

making perfect sense of nothing at all

By Tala Rae Schlossberg

Wishing you a happy holiday. Hanukkah falls on Christmas Day this year, that’s got to count for something.

Lail x

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Ok I can’t help it. I’ll probably share this song every year until Milo is old enough to tell me to stop it mum it’s so embarrassing…

JF & Lail - First Christmas - 2021:

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Three Years Of Archives!

Bonjour from Montreal. One day late I know, but it’s Labour Day here so feels like a Sunday…

Announcement below, but first a poem, or possibly a song, or maybe 5:

5 Songs

The last 5 songs I wrote are all the same
Doomsday reveries in all but name
I could summarise them in three lines
Save you all some precious time:
-My mind is at capacity
-The world is a calamity
-What will I say to my baby?
The last 5 songs I wrote are all the same

My last 5 songs took 5 long years to write
You do the maths, that’s one new word per night
I was called away by screens and screams
And overpriced tubs of ice cream
My last 5 songs took 5 long years to write

The 5 songs I last sang were not my own
They were written by the Gods I can’t dethrone
They take the words out of mouth
Especially when it all goes south
The 5 songs I last sang were not my own

This song took just 5 minutes to pen
It came to me in a rare moment of zen 
I sat cross-legged all alone 
I didn’t even check my phone
This song took me 5 minutes to pen

The next 5 songs I write will blow your mind
They’ll be profound, groundbreaking and sublime
What catharsis I will bring
To anyone who hears me sing
(I’ll lean on my comedic abilities to lighten the mood, distract you from the war, the climate, old age, misspent youth, lull you into a state of euphoric escapism and then BAM catch you off guard with unforgiving truths perfectly packaged in catchy four line choruses)
The next 5 songs I write will blow your mind

The last 6 songs I wrote, they’re all the same
Doomsday reveries in all but name
I thought this time I’d break away
But seems I’ve nothing else to say
-My mind is at capacity
-The world is a calamity
-What will I say to my baby 
The last 6 songs I wrote, they’re all the same

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And now! No time like September to announce a Christmas show! You heard it here first… Save the date! Book your tickets! And your flights to London!

*** Tuesday 17th December 7pm @ West Hampstead Arts Club ***

BOOK NOW!

Before that though…

…will report back.

Lail x

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Thank you for all your moving reactions to Thank You.

If you haven’t listened yet, or want to listen again, click this way…

Listen to my new single Thank You!

I’ll be honest, I’m in a bit of a fluster. This is going to be a substandard substack. With 10 or so days left until the Joni Mitchell tribute I’m curating at The Roundhouse my mind is spinning with tech specs and running orders and choir rehearsals and so many details and people and emails and I should probably practice too. And what the hell am I going to wear when everything I try to order from Vinted arrives too tiny or too huge.

Also the world. Is just a bit too much isn’t it. Sometimes it feels important to go on, to write, to make music, to share it, to keep spirits up, despite the escalating tragedies with no end. Other times everything seems so completely trivial in face of everything else. Like does anyone really need to read my earnest studio diary from this very day 10 years ago when I was recording my album The Onion in Brooklyn and there was a huge summer storm and we put a mic to the window to record the thunder and rain? Nah.

For this cop-out April newsletter I will leave the music to Milo. And I’ll be back in May, with a full report on the importance of coming together to sing Joni Mitchell songs, especially when you’re reading the news and it sure looks bad, they won’t give peace a chance, that was just a dream some of us had…

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Joni Mitchell turned 80 and I have a big announcement:

I’m co-producing and curating a tribute for her next April at the Roundhouse!

I wasn’t planning to write about this until December’s letter — but tickets went on sale an hour ago and half are already gone(!!) — so I thought I better let you know fast, in case you are in London, or want to come to London —

Info & tickets: www.roundhouse.org.uk/whats-on/itr-songs-of-joni-mitchell

Can you believe the line-up?!

I’ll tell you the whole story soon!

Lail x

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I hope you had a good night and, more importantly, I hope this will be a good year for us all. We deserve it.

This is my 50th post and 1st Substack anniversary! It’s also the beginning of my now monthly Sunday morning offerings. Which, when I sat down and wrote January in the subject line, reminded me of two things I hoped I’d erased from my memory…

Remember the good old Myspace days? When life was simple and the future was bright?! Well, as a couple of you may hazily recall, I used to change my profile picture once a month. It was an ambitious undertaking, costumes and post-production… some of the photos even moved... I think enough time has passed that I can start looking back on it with nostalgia rather than embarrassment. Evidence below!

Around the same time I recorded a song called Calendar Girl. It was actually rejected by the label for my first album! I do see now that it wasn’t really radio material… it’s very long… has no chorus… and requires an immense amount of concentration to follow… but you know, listening back for the first time in 13 years, it’s pretty wild! It was recorded with bass and banjo (only..) courtesy of The Two Man Gentleman Band, who I once met in Memphis. Long story. If nothing else, it’s very relevant to New Year’s. In fact it may be the only time of year when it’s appropriate to listen to it at all! Anxiously awaiting your comments…

Calendar Girl - Lail Arad - 2009:

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Hello from Montreal!

It’s garage sale season. Hand-written posters tacked to trees and taped to lampposts, everyone trying to flog off their unwanted goods on their neighbours, cleanse their soul with a spring clean, start the school year as they mean to continue. I love it. One man’s junk is another girl’s treasure. I remember the revelation from my clothes swap days, how the skins I was so happy to shed were born anew on my friends and vice versa. Not to mention eco-friendly anti-consumerist cost of living crisis eat your heart out. Remind me to organise a clothes swap when I get home. Where the hell was I? Oh yeah, in Montreal. I once found a stack of postcards for $3 in a garage sale here. Canadian dollars that is, even better. Maybe 100 postcards, unused, from all over the globe. The world’s largest pecan - a dolphin wearing sunglasses - someone’s peculiar collection. I had grand plans for this fine find: I would send one to everyone I knew; use them as invites to an album launch; leave them around the city, postcards to strangers. Grand plans, I tell you. They ended up as the front cover of our fridge. All of them, wall to wall. Recently our baby started pulling them off so I taped them down, full commitment, no going back. The fridge itself had a hard time in the recent heatwave. You could say it is now something between a fridge and an oven. “Please treat it gently”, said the note to our subletters when we left town last week. If it survives until we’re back it will be a minor miracle. If not, at least we can admire the postcards…

All this to say, consider this a virtual postcard from Montreal. Not in word count perhaps, but in sentiment. Wish you were here! Hope this finds you well! Thinking of you! I miss you! My Sunday Morning Substack proper will recommence Sept 18th with a musical commission of sorts. If you haven’t yet, now is the time to sign up to this weekly column, this multi-media pot-luck, this silver lining in the iCloud of your life. And if you each recruited one friend that would double my readership in one fell swoop (A-level maths!)

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It’s nice to be almost back,

Lail

I found this New Yorker article by Adam Gopnik to be excellent. Upsetting, but excellent:

newyorker.com/news/daily-comment/salman-rushdie-and-the-power-of-words

As you may know Salman has a Substack too. I thought I’d share a few of my favourites with you:

Salman's Sea of Stories

My Favorite Literary Encounters: 2012 PEN Awards for Song Lyrics of Literary Excellence. Leonard Cohen and Chuck Berry.

This may be the most remarkable photograph I’ve ever been part of: Here’s how it came about. When I was president of PEN America, I argued that we lived in a great age of lyrics writing - Joni Mit…

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5 years ago · 33 likes · 12 comments · Salman Rushdie

Salman's Sea of Stories

Passing by the Concert on the Roof

I’ve spent a lot of time in the last few days watching the long (the VERY long, more than seven hours long) documentary The Beatles: Get Back, assembled by Peter Jackson from the immense amount of footage shot long ago by Michael Lindsay-Hogg for his own earlier 80-minute documentary…

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5 years ago · 40 likes · 14 comments · Salman Rushdie

Salman's Sea of Stories

My Favorite Literary Encounters: Italo Calvino

In 1981, I reviewed Italo Calvino’s If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler for the London Review of Books. (You can find that review here: https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v03/n17/salman-rushdie/calvino - unless the paywall stops you.) Soon after that I was invited to introduce a reading by Calvino at the Riverside Studios in London. I was nervous, because I …

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5 years ago · 46 likes · 12 comments · Salman Rushdie

Writers and readers gathered on the steps of the New York Public Library on Friday for public readings of Salman’s work: Stand With Salman; Defend the Freedom to Write. Maybe we can do the virtual equivalent and keep reading:

Subscribe to Salman's Sea Of Stories

Lail x

As a stopgap, I’ll leave you with a month’s worth of superb Sunday songs to sing along to. You can ration them out.

Thank you for all the good times since January!

Back soon, with a vengence.

Lail x

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Blondie - Sunday Girl:

The Commodores - Easy:

Kris Kristofferson - Sunday Morning Comin’ Down:

Etta James - A Sunday Kind OF Love:

Lail Arad sings The Velvet Underground! — Sunday Morning:

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Here’s a detail from the video:

To submit your caption, please leave it as a comment below, just like in The New Yorker. The winner will be selected by a prestigious panel of family members and announced next Sunday. There may even be a prize.

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If for some reason you are not in a comment-leaving mood you can also submit your caption by replying to this email. But please be advised that preferential treatment will be given to those who submit their caption as a comment. Here’s the button, in case you missed it the first two times:

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Good luck.

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p.s. This is my 30th consecutive Sunday sending out Foggy Notions! It’s been so fun! I’m considering early retirement.

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The photographer was our friend Mark. Mark Cocksedge. It’s a joy to work with him. His calm rubs off on us. The first time we met was another hot day, sometime pre-pandemic. He took this photo, which became the cover for our single Heathrow.

A couple of summers later, during lockdown, Mark cycled around London documenting various artists on their doorsteps. He snapped my dad in his very own Matisse mask. And he snapped us too. I really love this photo. It brings back such specific memories. What a mood.

If there’s some kind of conclusion to be drawn from all this photographic chatter, Heathrow vs. Lockdown, sweat vs. make-up, I am far too hot to clinch it.

I’ll leave you with this playlist JF and I made a while back, to celebrate the release of our single called, wait for it… The Photograph. 50 photogenic songs to make you think all the world's a sunny day, oh yeah. Actually 48 songs. Neil Young’s Distant Camera and Joni Mitchell’s California (but he kept my Camera to sell..) were since removed from Spotify in protest. Good for them. And lucky for me I’ve got both songs on vinyl!

Smile For the Camera…

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Explore The Back Catalogue

I try to renew
Outdo myself
But there exist
So many gems
That make me love the 
Grit of places 
I’ve never even been
Detroit, Naples
What is there to add

I try to squeeze
All that has passed
Into these lines 
But seismic change
Does not bend 
Or lend itself 
To verse or rhyme
Where would I begin

I used to fix a good drink
Pour myself out
With spirit and tonic
A bittersweet blend
Make ‘em laugh
Make amends
My throat is dry today
What is there to say

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Here are a few photographs from cleaner times. Happy first day of spring.

p.s. Welcome new subscribers from the Substack virtual tour - that was fun! More music coming up soon…

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Thank you for your continued enthusiasm as I enter the second month of this brave new Substack world. In exchange, you can be the first to hear about an event I’m announcing next week. But how will you get back on stage after two years and one baby? By hosting an event about Motherhood! That’s right.

JW3 have invited me to curate an event in celebration of International Women’s Day, and I, in turn, have invited three inestimable writers — Tahmima Anam, Lauren Elkin & Sophie Heawood.

Please join us for an evening of songs, readings and conversation about the wonders and challenges of becoming a mother, being a mother and creating as a mother…

Thursday 3rd March 7.30pm (UK time)

One positive side-effect of the pandemic, dare I say it, is that tickets are available both In-building and On-line, so if you can’t make it in person you can still watch live from wherever you are in the world:

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I thought I might take this opportunity, as I psych myself up over the coming weeks, to share some motherhood-themed work with you. I have rather a lot of it… but that’s another story. Literally. The truth is — no, wait. We’ll get there. I’m not quite ready. For now I’ll start with a little poem. A poem?! Why the hell not, I haven’t slept in 8 months.

I hear you cry
A never-ending cry
But it is only the washing machine
Whirring as I nap
Try to nap, I should say
A rare moment alone
While you walk with your Papa
Roll is more accurate
While Papa walks and you roll
And the machine spins
So much laundry these days
Your tiny clothes
Full of milk, vomit and worse
Our huge clothes
Full of milk, vomit and worse
No wonder the machine is complaining
Moaning and groaning
I cannot sleep
I miss your cry
Roll on home and wake me up! 

And lastly, for those of you who missed it over the holidays, it feels tenuously appropriate to re-share the video for the Christmas song I released with JF — it was written for The Line Of Best Fit’s Ho! Ho! Ho! Canada XIII compilation and stars a certain baby…

See you next Sunday!

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2. Open with dread. Feel your heart sink as you size up the length, the quantity of words on your screen, a blur of black and white as you scroll down towards the small print, squinting to find the unsubscribe link. Click it firmly, with mild fury. Reason for unsubscribe? I never signed up for these emails! Hesitate. Did I sign up for these emails? Why would I have done such a thing? In what world did I think I’d have the time, the energy, the patience? Who is this person? What is Substack? How did I get here? Quit your email app, shut your screen, positively depressed about life.

3. Leave unopened, to be read later, at a sensible time, a quiet time, slowly, calmly, with a cup of tea and digestive biscuit, along with the other 4931 unread emails in your inbox.

4. Read immediately, because if you don’t do it right now, you know you never will. Even though right now is not the best time, to be honest. It’s a highly inconvenient time, in fact, between multiple work fiascos and trying to find a recipe for all-butter shortbread, without butter. Force yourself to concentrate, to block out the child screaming, the dishwasher beeping, your mind whirring. Notice spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, lack of judgement, lack of concept. You could write better than this! Why are you not writing this? Sign up for a Substack account, start your own newsletter.

5. Pour yourself a stiff drink. Click with curiosity. Lift an eyebrow. Lick your lips. This is not bad this. Rather witty. Pour yourself another drink. Read it over twice more. Laugh. Cry. Now this is what I signed up for! This is culture, this is connectivity! Just what the doctor ordered. A pause in the hamster wheel of life! Refill your drink. Forward the email to everyone you’ve ever met. Hit the share button, tweet about it, write in the comments section, do a little dance. Is this really free? I would pay for this! Await next instalment eagerly, cheeks flushed with gin and inspiration.

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