200 subscriber special!

Something to love, something to do, something to look forward to

It’s really annoying, isn’t it, when you see people posting things like ‘my therapist said [something no human therapist should ever say to a client] and i can’t stop thinking about it’. I hate-love these posts in the same way I hate-love ‘and then everyone clapped’, or, best of all, leftist parents posting about their child’s extremely woke and perfect opinion. No they didn’t, why are you putting words in someone’s mouth, just say what you mean.

The punchline, here, of course, is that today I am thinking about something my therapist once told me — that you need only three things to live happily. Something to love, something to do, something to look forward to.

So, with that to chew on for the time being, hello and good afternoon from me and a big tea. FAB DAD mode activated.

I’ll start with a confession: The picture above is from a few months ago and I am currently in a different hoodie, with a different mug, in an altogether different place.

My hair is longer now and consistent only in its misbehaving. My beloved FAB DAD mug got put through the dishwasher by well-meaning housemates a few too many times and now flakes whenever I touch it, so it has been retired with great honour to the also-very-special role of pencil holder.

I’m not in London, but writing this from Brighton, where I am house and catsitting for the week. My parents are away, enjoying their first all-inclusive holiday together. My dad keeps sending me photos of my mum with massive gin and tonics, her eyes bright like an eight-year-old’s. On the other end of the scale, in an increasingly desperate attempt to rouse me for breakfast, my cat ran across my head this morning. I mean, across — using my cheek as a launchpad. As I’ve now learned, via my face, she’s a small but really quite dense animal.

So, things are different since that Photobooth picture. The most severe changes have actually happened outside the realms of hoodies and cat assaults, but they’re not for public consumption (yet). But, overall, from how I’m feeling as I write this, the vibes mostly match up between now and that photo, and the internet is one big falsehood anyway, so I decided to deceive you. Sorry.

ANYWAY. This is a little letter to you, subscriber, to say thank you. THANK YOU! for putting your email in that little box and hitting ‘go’. I’ve only really become comfortable calling myself a writer in the last year, but I have big ambitions which are only going to come true if I Actually Sit Down And Fucking Write, and this substack is immensely helpful in that regard.

Sharing my words with all of you (and occasionally, when I’m very very lucky, hearing what you think of those words) urges me to keep going, to keep measuring my insides against the outside, to keep getting better.

It has also become a welcome steady beat which thrums away in the background. January has been terribly horrible no good nasty and awful so far, and so I’ve been trying to focus my energy into making sure I have those all-important three things sorted: what to do? What to love? What to give myself to look forward to?

For a long time, I had my somethings laid out in front of me in perfect order. I could have predicted them, but I never needed to.

The charm/horror of the last year has been smashing up the pavestones below me and getting used to the feeling of cold dirt on my feet instead. But one of the benefits of everything coming down around you is the way that the little stones which remain standing become suddenly obvious, and vital.

This substack manages, in its own little way, in the little way I have so come to appreciate, to tick all three boxes. So, if you’ll have me, I will continue to do it, will endeavour to love it, will hope that we can both look forward to what’s to come.

Helpfully, I doubt I’ll ever be short of things I want to tell you about. Even once the stones have been fully replaced. So! Sincerely, thank you for being one of 200. Here’s to ??? more. Don’t forget to FAB DAD.

M xxx