There are so. many. brilliant. books. being announced and released seemingly daily, the “to be read” pile I keep in my head is teetering so precariously you’d think Ben Shepherd’s about to analyse its drop on daytime TV. And that’s before we get into other forms of media, too: Substacks (yes, I blame all of you), traditional news outlet articles, podcasts. Heated Rivalry AO3 reccs goddamit!

I came across a brilliant new (to me) podcast this morning (There Are No Girls on the Internet, by Bridget Todd) and my first thought — after this sounds sick — was too Brenda from Bristol for my liking. Not another one! How can I fit all of this into my days?

That is NOT how I want to feel when presented with someone doing something incredible.

There’s a quote you might have seen floating around bookstagram or booktok or thREADs or whatever new portmanteau they’ve come up with now: the idea that you shouldn’t view your bookcase as a to-do list, but more as a wine cellar1. According to that, we “collect books to be read at the right time, the right place, and the right mood.” When I got back into reading a few years ago, this placated me for a while; now, it doesn’t even touch the sides of my need for more time. (And don’t even get me started on the fact that I didn’t read for years, other than a handful of self-development books here and there: what a foolish waste of time. You’re telling me there were moments of my life where I could have been catching up, and wasn’t? Your honour, put her in the stocks!!!)

But herein lies another tension: I simultaneously want to consume everything all the time, and I also don’t. I want to combine my latest podcast with a walk; and I also want to just enjoy listening to the sounds of my local park in spring. I want to read my non-fiction book on the tube; but I also want to use the anonymity of the Piccadilly line to take a breather. Even here, on this train, I am itching to get started on the book I got for my birthday (Bad Taste, by Nathalie Olah), but I also want to write as the green fields hurtle by.

This is just modern life, I know, blessed and overwhelming in equal measures. And I also know there’s no solution, other than accepting that I will never be able to consume it all, so I need to stop trying. But — and I hate to sound like a brat here, but so be it — I don’t want to.

I want to soak up all the brilliance the world has to offer.

I want to learn, to laugh, to lament, to luxuriate in the incredible wit and wisdom of other people.

I want to expand my horizons, bit by bit, every day, thanks to the folk who are sharing their expertise and experience with us.

Because, to be clear, it’s not even as if I’m lumping all of content in here, including AI slop and brainrot content and god knows what else. This is me being selective! This is me whittling down!

I’ve no real way to end this, other than if anyone has a million pounds or a genuinely magical solution, I’d love to hear it.

Oh, and sorry for adding to your TBR pile in turn.

When I used to work in wedding planning, I was often asked by people — who thought they were the first to ever ask it, naturally — “would you plan divorce parties as well?” My answer always shocked them, because it was an unequivocal yes: I think it’s vulnerable and brave and a gesture of love to get married and I think it’s a different vulnerable and brave gesture of love to get divorced, and thus deserves to be celebrated too!

In fact, I think we should host parties and celebrations for so much more than just the standard milestones society has previously agreed upon, because they so often don’t represent the realities of life.

This is absolutely not an original thought: it’s often talked about online, in the same sphere of conversation as making your life more whimsical and romanticising your life. I also had the pleasure of freelancing for a company called Patchwork for a good few years, who created an online registry service that wasn’t restricted to weddings (or, crucially, consumerism or capitalism: you could donate your skills and time and money, too. I miss it every day.)

Having said this, I also get the sense that so much of the advice for whimsymaxxing and romanticising is immediately relegated to that well-intentioned but much-maligned graveyard of saved instagram posts and screenshot TikTok comments sections which are never looked at again once captured. Similarly, I think the idea of All Out Celebrations Just Because is something that often makes people go “Yeah, I’ll do it!”, that they then totally forget about actioning.

Which is why I was so excited when a dear friend invited us to a dinner on Saturday, to celebrate their 10 year anniversary in London. (While an anniversary is a traditional celebration causes, I don’t think enough people celebrate ones that aren’t romantic or birthdays). In a Thai restaurant in Fitzrovia, we slurped silky red curry and chomped a delicious homemade cardamom, coffee and pistachio cake whilst making friends, and the birthday boy anniversary adolescent Ed gave a lovely speech about his decade in the capital and the parts we’d all played to build it with him. It was utterly delightful and, although I don’t think he planned this event to prove my point correct, it definitely served that purpose too.

There’s that famous Annie Dillard quote that says “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” Or, as my pal recently put it to me: a good life is made up of more great days than bad. This, to me, is the perfect extension of that: celebrating the bits that make the everyday great, rather than the once-in-a-lifetime.

Here’s some ideas for events you can celebrate just because:

• Your pet’s 23 and me results

• You filed your first self-employed tax return

• You had a patch of alopecia, and it’s now growing back (this suggestion comes lovingly to you from me and the random 5cm-long patch of hair just above my left ear)

• You got something you’ve wanted forever on Vinted or eBay or Vestaire Collective

• You found your new favourite crisp

• You sent your first email without a “no worries if not”

• You cleared your screenshots folder

• You saw a really gorgeous sunset

• a Duolingo streak

• You finally got a refund from a company you’d been going back and forth with forever

The list goes on.

What would your party be?

Currently, I’m going through the opposite: my entire life I’ve thought I was disciplined. Excellent at committing to something when needed. Willing to put the work in up front, for (much) delayed gratification.

In reality, I’m full of shit.

I bought a pixel diary at the turn of the year, entranced by its BuJo1-ness without any of the set-up or precision required for BuJo2-ing (at least here, I was self-aware). It’s a simple setup: a page of squares, each representing a day of the year, with a key of your choosing where you can track various habits and hobbies. The idea was positive reinforcement, a visual reminder of just how well I’m doing, when I feel like I’m doing badly.

What I didn’t count on was, apparently, the fact that I’m absolutely terrible at consistently keeping up habits. Take my “read non-fiction” habit, for example: sure, I knew I didn’t do it every day, but I’d have confidently estimated that I do it most days, with a couple off here and there because, y’know, life.

Hahaha, the Fat Controller laughed, you are wrong. I read non-fiction for just 11 days out of 28 this February. In and of itself, this isn’t a bad number — it’s 11 more than 0, and I’m enjoying the books I’ve read/am reading (Everything I Need I Get From You by , Make It Stick by Chip & Dan Heath, and Take Your Eye Off the Puck: How to Watch Hockey by Knowing Where to Look, by Greg Wyshynski). But for someone who’s not only always prided herself on her ability to work hard and do diligently, but has based a lot of her sense of self around it, it’s been a shock to the system.

Trying to look at it with a positive spin: I’ve at least kept up with the habit of filling in the diary, which I guess suggests I need to connect back with my bigger goals or something?

For now, though, I’m looking into incentivisation tactics. I’m committing to a better March. But, perhaps most importantly, I’m spiralling into existential panic (naturally). How can I have got it so wrong? Was I ever disciplined? WHO AM I?

If they have, you might have noticed a common refrain from fans: that Hudson Williams is “PR’s worst nightmare (respectful)” and that they “hope he never gets media training”.

He’s being branded “unhinged”, “feral”, or “chaotic” in the way online inhabitants of the internet do nowadays. What they’re getting at is this: he’s delightfully quick-witted, funny, and an innuendo hates to see him coming (😏). He’s incredibly open, sharp, smart, and doesn’t shy away from a swear word. He’s forthcoming with his opinions, too; in an interview at the Golden Globes, he was asked to tell them his honest opinion on AI, to which he looks straight down the camera and says “Fuck AI. Fuck it so hard. Fuck it to death.”1

But, in addition, he’s also incredibly thoughtful with his answers, intentional with his language, and respectful of the project he’s promoting. When an ignorant question is asked he deftly swerves it, and when a real question is posed he’s not afraid to go deep, quick (if you think that Heated Rivalry is just a show about queer hockey smut, watch an interview with him and/or his co-lead, Connor Storrie, and you’ll see how much more there is to it).

Which is all to say — of course he’s media trained. You’re not letting someone go on any press tour, never mind the Golden Globes, without some form of support in that arena. And I suspect that deep down, many of the commenters know that, and it’s just internet hyperbole doing its hyperbolic thing. But I still think it’s worth noting that after years of us being spoonfed sanitised, controlled media, we’ve all just accepted the idea that “media-trained” = plain, vanilla, boring, inoffensive answers. (A notable exception from the very same Golden Globes red carpet was, of course, Mark Ruffalo who spoke about Renee Good, the woman murdered by an ICE agent in Minneapolis: “I’m not feeling so great. We have a woman, Renee Good was murdered in our streets of America today … As much as I love all this, I don’t know if I can pretend like this crazy stuff isn’t happening.”)

With Hudson Williams (and Connor Storrie, to give him his well-deserved flowers too), instead of throwing them into the lion’s den with no preparation, what they’ve actually done is something brave and brilliant, and sent him off with the perfect instruction: let your personality be the star, and it’s something we could all take note of.

Because what if your personality is the strategy? What if being yourself is the key?

After a lifetime of shrinking, or being told to contort yourself to fit in, or being told that there’s one way to do things because it’s just always the way it’s been done, we can ask ourselves: how can I bring more me into this? How can I be more unapologetically myself?

Maybe you’ve not got a press tour or a red carpet to worry about, but I’m sure you’ve got a reel to post, or an email to write, or some 2026 planning to do where you’re worried about being an authentic version of yourself. Not only will it hopefully make the task easier, because you’re removing a layer of friction, but it will also ring truer, with the recipients and future you.

Ok, I’m going back to the cottage now.

I wrote about the way I fall hard for stuff, quickly, a couple of years ago here (at the time, this was inspired by Community):

What I mean is that the speed at which this new thing has integrated and become a central part of my life has become something akin to warp. That I have gone from watching no TV to doing nothing but watching TV after the work day is over - and that demarcation is only because my partner works a ‘proper’ job which renders him unable to watch before at least 6.30pm. That I’ve gotten so invested in the characters that I’ve googled selective synopses because I simply can’t wait to watch it unfold in real (10 years late) time, which then leaves me stuck with the knowledge but unable to share it because my partner doesn’t want the spoilers (selfish!).

And whilst this may sound OTT, it’s a totally normal course of action for me when I love something. It’s a pretty simple process, with only 2 stages: initial discovery, and then total immersion.

Though I haven’t been able to see what all the Heated Rivalry fuss is about yet (damn UK release dates!), I’ve loved watching it envelope my social media. So many people speaking about something with immense love, deep gratitude, and reverence has been nothing short of wonderful, especially a proudly queer love story.

But really, what is a normal amount?

At the back end of last year, I read “Am I Normal?” by Sarah Chaney. It charts how “normal” as a word originally meant a right angle, was then made to be descriptive, and was then quickly made prescriptive:

As the subtitle for the book, The 200-Year Search for Normal People (and Why They Don’t Exist), suggests: “normal” is made up, but the consequences very much aren’t.

(As a side note, this paragraph could have been directly written to me, if you swap “selective state school in a wealthy part of southern England” to “charitable private school in an economically downturned part of north east England”):

Over the years, as I read more about the history of medicine and science, about colonialism and gender, about queer theory and the social model of disability, my notion of the normal gradually became a little less self-indulgent, a little less insular. I realised that, despite my experiences and anxiety, I was privileged. By luck of birth, I had grown up closer to the Western so-called norm than many people, even if I had felt far from normal at a selective state school in a wealthy part of southern England.

Which, again, leads me to question: what is a normal amount to love things? From the descriptive point of view, the frequency with which I see people say they’re incapable of loving things a normal amount makes me think that it’s actually quite common. Instead, I think this feeling of abnormality comes from the well-worn (but frankly boring) narrative which we’ve been fed, that to like things is embarrassing: a sign of failure, of frivolity, of weakness.

Even as someone who’s been writing on enthusiasm for nearly a decade now, this has still only really just dawned on me: that this idea of liking things an abnormal amount is probably untrue. Not to sound all Principal Skinner about it, but what if it’s not that I’m weird in that I like things more than most people? What if it’s that we’re all just pretending we don’t like things as much as we do, because we’ve been made to feel like we can’t?

Some evidence for this is that there being a “normal” amount to like things is usually applied along gendered lines. Very rarely have I seen a man either be told that they, or self-identify as, loving something an abnormal amount (at least something “traditionally male”): they get tattoos of their club football badge and series funding for hobbies frequently, and the world doesn’t bat an eyelid.

So, next time you fall in love with something, and you fall in hard: try not to feel bad. Welcome it. Embrace it.

My entire life, I’ve liked things a normal amount: and that amount is loads, thank you very much.

From a small business POV, I had questions: how do you make sure you don’t trigger a spam filter, for example? But also, I wanted to know how she got into it, and what it looks like day-to-day. Luckily, because she’s a top tier hun, she agreed to sit down & chat to me all about it. Everybody say thank you Krystal Ivy!!!!!!!!!

Hi! Tell us a bit about you.

Helllloo! I’m Krystal Ivy - a Nashville, Tennessee based email marketing strategist that creates campaigns, workflows, and strategies for fun and funky founders! I’m also the host of The Digital Cafe - something you’re no stranger to - a membership where I teach creative entrepreneurs how to increase the profitability of their email marketing!

I also drink a ton of coffee and love a raunchy lil romance book when I’m offline!

What did your career path look like pre-being an email strategist and working with Only Fans creators?

My journey into the spicy world actually started because I was creating workflows and campaigns for quite a few cannabis brands. Given that the plant is illegal in many states here in the US, marketing these e-commerce products was a really fun challenge that took so much creative thinking. My brain had to really work through the process of what could and couldn’t be said, while still communicating clearly with buyers. The censorship was a massive problem for my clients but I loved getting to find the perfect (and legal) workarounds.

As time went on, I started working with more content creators - influencers in the fitness and beauty space. But somewhere along the way I got a few leads for OF creators and it was that same exciting challenge I had with the cannabis brands but instead of it all centering around a consumer good, it was a human. I loved that so much.

It’s a colorful journey (especially when you consider I have a degree in political science) but I have loved the path that got me here.

How did you realise this was something you wanted to do?

Because this world kind of fell into my lap and wasn’t something I outright pursued to break into - I think it was a few conversations with my husband about how different it would be and the kind of systems I would have to have in place to do it safely (managing any content for SW’s is a massive priority I never took lightly) and a lot of “Well this could be really cool. Who’s doing this? No one is doing this the way I would want to do it!”

I’ve always seen sex work as necessary. Access to ethical sexual outlets is a well documented resource for safer communities, online and off. I could never see myself working in the field as a creator, the same way I couldn’t imagine myself working in masonry or something like that, but I loved the female empowerment and creativity that came along with the work and getting to support these creators. Once I signed my first creator, I was hooked!

What do you love most about it?

From an email strategy perspective, spicy creators understand that the content they share is often a problem for platforms like Instagram and TikTok. Again, the censorship is crazy intense sometimes. But most of that goes away when it comes to email marketing. You can show a hell of a lot of skin in an email without really risking too much. Because of this, we get creative bridging the content platforms with the email world - sometimes creating really intricate funnels depending on a creator’s offers (for example, I recently built a fairly complex funnel for a creator who has a PG-13 audience and an XXX audience; we send the SFW emails during the day and in the evening things get hot).

I love finding new ways to navigate creative freedom and female/nd empowerment within traditional systems.

What’s the biggest thing you’ve learnt from it?

I’m an emo-girly to my core and much of what I’ve learned from the very beginning is that creativity happens in so many ways. Sometimes it’s a painting or a cool graphic… sometimes it’s a hot dance in a lace miniskirt. I love humans and I love to see them do what they love to do.

What do you wish people knew about it?

I wish more folks knew that there’s people doing what I’m doing and that the SW community needs more female/nb-founded businesses to safely support them. I hear from spicy content creators on a weekly basis that they’ve been taken advantage of or had their content mishandled by other marketers or agencies. Many of those being male-dominated.

If we want to be the change we wish to see in the world, then we have to connect with the clients who need us most. These content creators need safe companies to support them, to trust, and to help get their content in the hands of the people who will uplift them.

What’s one thing you’re enthusiastic about, outside of work?

Distance running! I just ran my first half marathon a couple weeks ago! I know many folks hate on running but it has allowed me the privilege of enjoying the outdoors more and pushing myself in ways I never thought possible. It was so meaningful to me, that half marathon. I’m fortunate to have an able body and I never want to waste a day being ungrateful about it.

Thank you Krystal Ivy for answering these questions — you can work with her here (whether your work is PG or 18+), follow her on insta here, and on threads here.

Do you have an unusual job title? I’d love to know more!

Also, same same but totally different: I asked honey sommelier Helen Rogers about her unusual job last year:

I had a notes app where I’d been jotting down ideas as they came to me, but no actual speech. And whilst I told myself it’s because I’d been so busy in the lead-up, I’ve since realised what’s probably blindingly obvious to you already: I was procrastinating putting pen to paper because I was sh*t scared of writing it.

I couldn’t work out how to put C, our darling bride and one of my very best friends, into words1. Part of this is because of her jaw-dropping beauty, sure, her numerous talents, of course and her effervescent energy, naturally, but also it’s because time and time again she gloriously defies categorisation (and therefore easy-to-reach-for descriptions, that don’t just sound like empty platitudes). In the end, this formed the basis of my speech: how she spans multitudes with effortlessness and ease. Wondrously creative, yet extremely practical. A million miles an hour, yet incredibly steadying and gentle. Famously incapable of keeping her phone intact or not down a toilet, but also the first person you’d ring if you needed a hand with absolutely anything.

I’ve been thinking about this idea of the middle ground a lot, recently: and how we as a society, and especially I as a person, hate to occupy it.

Categorisation, or categorical thinking, is a technique that allows our brains to store and make sense of the incredible amount of information we’re bombarded with everyday. Scientists have found it begins at 3 to 4 months old. It’s why every single video of a bobcat or wildcat on social media will inevitably have the comment “if not friend why friend-shaped”: because we’ve categorised fluffy, small(ish) felines as cute and not dangerous wild animal. It’s also partially why fashion is now a series of fleeting “-core”s.

As well as other objects, it feels good to categorise our selves in this manner too: to some extent, our own identity is formed from a process of social categorisation. It helps us not only signal who we are, but know how to behave, too: an easy checklist for us to subconsciously mark ourselves against.

But recently, I’ve noticed that it’s become so prescriptive that I’ve forgotten there even is middle ground between two opposing categories.

Back in the summer, wrote something in that genuinely had me, as the kids say, shook (do the kids still say that?!):

from an outside perspective, i suppose it could seem that i “have it together” i am am unwaveringly ambitious, my apartment is intentionally tidy, i consistently workout without thinking about it, i text my mom enthusiastically and often, and i start sweating if i am more than 5 minutes late to anything. but there is another part of me that i find saying things like, “nothing in life is ever reaaaaaallllllllyyyy that serious, it will be fineeeeee” and “i mean, i would go out tonight…” and “if they’re giving out free belly button piercings…i would get one.” i am constantly saying yes to things even if it costs me sleep because i rely on my passionate stamina to get me through anything. i get tattoos somewhat recklessly much because i relish in my ability to change something in my life permanently, in an instant.

This spoke to me on a spiritual level, because I, too, have these 2 sides. Even though I love control and order, I also once played a game of odds on2 with an industry peer I only knew semi-well at the time to get their initials tattooed on me, because to me it doesn’t seem that deep and it’s all a bit of a laugh.

Emily’s piece began with “those who don’t know me well think that i am Type A, those who do know me well think i am Type B; realistically, i am somewhere happily floating in the middle.”

I hadn’t even considered that I could be both, or neither, or any combination of the two.

What I’m trying to do is lean more into the nuance, the grey, the very middle of it all.

To remember that if I don’t immediately fit into one easily available category or another, I can explore the ground in between or around.

To recognise that it doesn’t make me faulty, or defective, but it makes me human: both to contain multitudes, and to want to try and box those off neatly and with a label.

For my undergrad, I opted not to do a dissertation, choosing instead 2 exam-based modules, because I just couldn’t fathom caring about anything in the degree enough to write 8,000 words on it. (By this point, I had tried to drop out 2 or 3 times: I was well aware it had been the wrong decision for me.)

So for my MA, a course I’d chosen after realising that I didn’t hate learning, I’d just been burnt out from my terrible undergrad experience, I was excited but nervous: how does one go about their 15,000-word magnum opus?

The answer is, as it turned out, pretty simple, or at least it was for me: choose something you’re interested in, and it won’t feel like a chore — which is why I did my dissertation on the treatment of fangirls in the British media.

Spoiler alert, besties: it wasn’t good! (My official title ended up being: Pathologised, Patronised, and Hypersexualised: A Feminist Critical Discourse Analysis of how MailOnline presented female fans of One Direction, 2011-2015)

At the moment, my FB memories are flooded with reminders of writing it 3 years ago: the copious white Magnums that spurred me on, the arduous Overground-and-bus journeys to New Cross, where the uni & library was, the periodic reminders to clients that I had reduced capacity as I finished it off. My MA was sociocultural linguistics, and my dissertation was corpus-based, which meant I spent weeks trawling through 400+ articles on a right-wing tabloid newspaper here in the UK, all of which were just a tad more soul-crushing than the last (I knew I was cooked when I found a headline that compared fangirls to Jihadi brides, and my immediate thought was “Bad for feminism, great for my dissertation”, lol).

I loved really sinking my teeth into a topic, coming up with something concrete, and feeling like I was fighting for something: for fangirls, and feminism, and enthusiasm.

And that’s why I’ve decided that in the coming weeks I’m going to post it on here, at least in part, because what it covers is still as relevant now as it was then, when it was still as relevant as it had been the century preceding it. I need to shuffle around the structure a little bit, and make sure I’m not gonna get sued for copyright as it’s corpus-based, but it’s some of the work I’m proudest of and I can’t wait to share it.

In the meantime, if you did one: what did you do your dissertation on? Why did you choose it? Did you love it? What did you argue? I genuinely, desperately want to know - please and thank you!

On Sunday I was dropping my sister off at Euston Station when we passed a girl I used to go to uni with on the escalator.

We both said “Hello!” in the same tone of pleasant surprise, and then just as she sank out of hearing range, she said “What a lovely—”

Here’s a few suggestions for what she might have said next:

1. Surprise

2. Coincidence

3. Exchange

4. Delight

5. Blast from the past (Ah, 2018)

6. Name, the name of Jesus (I don’t remember her being particularly devout)

7. Trip down memory lane

8. Weather we’re-a having (unlikely because she’s not an 8-bit Italian plumber)

9. Shirt you’re wearing (not to brag, but she wouldn’t be wrong)

10. Day it’s been, despite the fact that everything is on fire and I want to cry all the time (I feel ya sister!)

11. Thing it is to see someone you know randomly in London! In a city famed for sometimes feeling impersonal — and with everyone so spread out — it will never cease to make me feel like I’ve made it my home! Like London is a village!

I think it’s safe to say that that last one might just be me projecting — but it’s true, I do. Be they old schoolmates, old uni-mates, ex-colleagues, staff from your former coworking space who you became pally with (this happened this weekend just gone at the market), or current friends (which, weirdly, also happened at the market, extra weird because we both live in North London and Gipsy Hill was a good hour away from there), it’s always a joy to see people I know randomly.

I’m not saying it makes me a Londoner — even 11 years in, I’m not sure that’s something I could name myself — but it does make me feel like London is my home, and reminds me of the wonderful life I’ve made here.

I went on stage after a monk who went on a 4-year retreat from 2005-2009, meaning he went in when the iPhone didn’t exist, and came out to a completely different world.

(I LOVE speaking on stage, so if you’re looking for an enigmatic speaker who delivers memorable and useful talks…HELLO IT ME. I can talk about enthusiasm, messaging, personality-led business, and so much more — feel free to drop me a line.)

Of course, let’s call a spade a spade — it’s insane that I’m going straight after that. It’s especially insane that I’m going straight after that with a talk about Pitbull. But proceed we must, so proceed I did.

The reason I was giving this talk, anyhow, was because I was sharing the importance of being earnest. Not the Oscar Wilde book, but the deeply vulnerable act of being keen about something that really matters to you: zeal with sincerity, no matter what.

So how does Mr Worldwide fit into this? Well, our generation’s Shakespeare — if Shakespeare was obsessed with big booties, historians can you confirm — is incredibly earnest.

First up, the man’s a walking Pinterest board/LinkedIn post. This motivational masterclass is evident in his lyrics: ‘everyday above ground is a great day / remember that’, ‘live life, don’t let life live you’, ‘Took my life from negative to a positive / I just want y’all to know that’. It’s evident in his interviews, like when he told Greg James on Radio 1 Breakfast that ‘the best room to be in is the room for improvement’. It’s in his social media posts, but not in a cringe girlboss kind of way — he lives and breathes them, and goddamnit if they don’t make you wanna live and breathe them too.

Plus, if you’ve seen him on tour, you’ll have seen how, after every single song — when the music’s finished, the flames have stopped, the light show has ceased — he just stands there, like the emoji surveying his (suited and baldcapped) empire. He is so profoundly grateful to be doing what he does, and it seems like he takes a moment to remind himself of this every time he performs a song.

Another thing he does on every tour date is includes a 5-10 minute segment about the schools he builds in Miami, to help kids who are underprivileged. He talks about the teacher who changed Young Pit’s life when she saw something in him that no-one else did, and gave him purpose and direction. He’s built something like 13 schools and helped something like 10,000 kids, with a 100% graduation rate. All of this he tells you, very genuinely, with an accompanying slideshow, at the back end of 1 hour+ where you’ve been singing about shots and threesomes. Honestly, it’s heart-warming.

And earnest.

SO EARNEST.

So, this is your end-of-week reminder to Be More Pit: to be more sincere. To be more unapologetic about how you feel and what’s important. To know that it’s ok to have things that matter.

Dalé.

P.s. the event I spoke at was Confidence Live, organised by the wonderful Kirsty Hulse. I would highly recommend it!

I’ve been feeling a lot more jealous, recently, and I don’t like it.

I’ve always joked — in a way that is absolutely, incredibly, 100% the most truthful thing I’ve ever said in my life — that my main motivating factor is FOMO. If other people are doing something, I want in; it’s just the way I operate. It’s the reason I fear two of my friends who I introduced ever hanging out without me (sidenote: the first time I ever met she verbalised feeling like this to me, and I was like…I’m not the only one?!) and it’s pretty much the only reason I’m not plotting a move to NZ right now, because waking up to a group chat full of texts while I’d been asleep was Not The One. (As I said, kind of joking, but kind of also 100% true.)

Lately, though, I’ve noticed it’s become more insidious; more and more I’ve caught myself coveting what someone else has, with an intensity that almost matches the same happiness I’ve felt for them for having the thing in the first place. This is why I intentionally use jealousy to describe what I’m feeling, rather than envy, because jealousy involves resentment, and this has started to feel snarling and fanged.

So, obviously, I want to put a stop to it — because I don’t love the path that’s headed down.

As someone who doesn’t journal day-to-day, I’m reluctant to admit that I think the answer might be in journalling, in the process of teasing it out. Specifically in what I’m dubbing my Jealousy Journal (ok, sure, another reason why I’m using jealousy instead of envy is because it’s alliterative here, sue me!). Every time I feel that familiar, awful tidal wave, I’m going to document it. Here’s what I’m going to be tracking:

The trigger: what I see that I’m jealous of

What is it that has, to put it plainly, set me off? What have I seen or heard about? Importantly, this is a No-Projection Zone; I can’t add my own conjecture to it. My job is to just report the facts: saw this. It contained this.

The feeling: what I think I’m jealous of

Now I’m allowed to investigate more. What have I interpreted the above as? What have I decided it means? The human brain loves to embellish, to fill in gaps: what gaps have I decided to fill in, and with what?

The meaning: what I’m actually jealous of

And this is the bit where — hopefully — it all comes together. What is it about the above that I want for myself?

The plan is simple enough, and two-pronged. Firstly, I want to take the sting out of the jealousy, to stop it in its tracks. It’s not about not feeling my feelings, but about not allowing them to snowball into something they’re not. I’m not denying they exist, I’m just asking them to justify themselves.

The second is to create a catalogue of what I actually want. That third point, the meaning, is an insight into what I (think I) desire. Are there any patterns or recurring themes? Is there anything in there that surprises me? Or, alternatively, is there anything in there that doesn’t surprise me, that I’ve known for quite a while but possibly not wanted to admit?

Which leads me to the final exercise of the Jealousy Journal:

The lesson: what I’m going to do about it

With this catalogue of wants, I can now ask myself: what are you going to do about it, then? Has this revealed an avenue you’re going to seriously pursue? Has it given you food for thought? And, crucially: are you willing to do what you need to in order to achieve the thing you want?

If so: congrats, I’ve discovered something that’s important to me, and will improve my life.

And if not: well, now you know. Normal service resumes, and we go again.

What’s your relationship like with jealousy and/or envy? I’d love to know!

Thanks to who hosted the writing session where I was able to finally put these thoughts down, and whose incredible writing nor excellent fringe incite any feelings of jealousy or envy in me at all, no sir, not on bit. You can join these writing sessions with a subscription to .

Thanks also to the WILD community, who had such useful suggestions when I mentioned this the other day. If you’re a small business owner looking for community and support, you can join til Friday — use the code WILDPAL to get £10 off your membership, and tell ‘em Ellie Kime sent you :)

We’re lucky enough to live near a lovely park, and we try and walk through there at least once a day (usually with a coffee in hand from the coffee shop where we know the staff by name and who really helped us feel right at home in the area when we first moved into our flat a couple of years ago). It’s become something of a ritual, and this morning was no different.

Apart from this morning, something was different. I don’t know whether everything was *actually* more picturesque, or whether I was just seeing everything through different eyes (having spent the majority of last night/this morning wondering how everyone got such gorgeous photos of spectating at the marathon when I only have 1 photo and it’s of my sunburnt arm - wear sunscreen, kids), but everything seemed positively poetic.

As soon as we entered the mouth of the park, we encountered a dog. This is not unusual; in fact, it’s one of the reasons we love it so much. Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head — there’s even a dog that we see being walked there called The Mayor, because he walks with incredible importance (I once ran into the Mayor and their owner in the above coffee shop and went “Omg it’s the Mayor!” and the very lovely owner looked at me very politely and said “she’s called Jessie”).

This one was huge, a St Bernard type, and it was splooted across the main walkway like melted ice cream. Wide walkway, wide dog. People kept stopping to check if he was ok, and his dog walker kept calling his name in a kind but resigned voice, like this wasn’t their first rodeo. Eventually, he shuffled off, but until that point, he was perfectly framed by the trees and the sun, and I think it would have made a lovely picture.

Further into our walk, we passed a man enjoying a coffee with his baby tightly swaddled to his chest. The sun was shining, the baby was smiling in its sleep, and the whole thing was serene. Until Rich nudged me and pointed out that the man was also reading “The Book of Disappointment”.

(I wouldn’t have *actually* taken a picture of this second one, because I don’t think we should take photos of random members of the public - but it would have made a great portrait if I did).

p.s. speaking of taking more photos, I’m going on Celie Nigoumi’s Spring Photowalk in May, with all the profits going to Islamic Relief's Gaza Appeal. Come along?!

If you’re doing a speech or performance and want some positive reinforcement, I’m the perfect guest in the crowd.

If you need someone to convince you to do something, I’m the perfect enabler.

And if you’re running a marathon, I’m the perfect cheer squad member1.

I only found out about cheer squads, or cheer points, fairly recently, so with the London Marathon in just a few short weeks2, I thought I’d speak to some brilliant charitable folk with cheer squad intel (you can find their bios at the bottom) in case you and your enthusiasm could be of assistance too…

Ok, what is a cheer squad?

: “A cheer squad is a group of dedicated volunteers who come together to raise awareness for a charity's cause and support brave fundraisers by cheerleading at things like races, parades, and other events. They inject excitement and boost morale with their spirited chants, singing, clapping, and whooping! By giving fundraisers the best experience, you’ll help the charity to recruit more participants and raise more money for their vital cause. You'll also get a very wholesome day out, that satisfying feeling that you’re rooting for changemakers, and the chance to meet lots of lovely and inspiring people!”

How can you get involved in a cheer squad?

Sophie Wallace: “If you know someone who is running for a charity, ask them where their charity's stand will be (we always tell runners, so they can keep an eye out for us and wave for the camera) - you can just join when you want, or get in touch to volunteer for the whole day.

Otherwise, you can get in touch with a charity that you'd like to support, and get in touch with their fundraising teams (they usually have a general email), or reach out to them on social media. Just ask if they'll be running a cheer point, and are looking for volunteers. Chances are, they'll snap your hands off.

They'll then share the details of where they'll be meeting, times and anything else. They'll often be able to offer you some branded items to wear, or branded hand clappers so that you don't ruin your hands by clapping for 3 hours straight.

If you're able to volunteer for the whole race (or part, if it's a marathon), it's so helpful. The more the merrier!”

Do you have any advice for people who want to get or are involved in them?

Victoria Flynn: “First and foremost you’ve got to bring the energy! The crowds are the absolute backbone of these events, spurring all the amazing participants on to that finish line, so you need to be on good form shouting and cheering your support. If you’re not sure what to say, or feel a bit shy, it’s always easy to just pick out names of runners from their bibs and shout “Go [name]!”" (And, as Sophie notes, “don't worry about repeating yourself with the same 3 things, the runners move by so quickly they won't hear.”)

Sophie: “Wear comfy clothes and shoes…bring some water and snacks, [and] leave yourself plenty of time to get to the cheer point location - races often mean roads are closed and trains are busy, so you might have to weave around to get where you need to go.”

Ruby: “Choose a charity you feel really passionate and excited about or if you have a friend or family participating in an event, join in with the charity they are fundraising for! Don't be afraid to get the good tunes on (Ring My Bell is my fave for cycling events), funny signs out, and really express yourself…(and be prepared to have to rest your voice/have a honey and lemon the next day!)”

Thank you Ruby, Sophie & Victoria!

Ruby is a charity project manager and funding lead for Friends of the Earth Scotland. She is listed as one of Civil Society Media's 25-Under-35 for her creativity, skill, and innovative spirit. As an adventurer and nature lover, she finds her joy and inspiration in the everyday beauty of the world around her (and psychedelic cumbia). You can read her Substack here.

Victoria lives in West London and is currently the Social Media Manager at Cystic Fibrosis Trust, but has spent the last six years working in the charity sector in various roles, including fundraising, comms and events. She can often be found embarrassing herself for the Trust’s social media channels…

Sophie is a public fundraiser with over eight years experience in the charity sector, and has worked on fundraisers ranging from races and tea parties, to Christmas singles and knitted postbox toppers! She now works at the RAF Museum creating new fundraising programmes in regular giving and legacies. Inside and outside of work, she’s a history nerd, reader, list writer and tea drinker.

Over the years, it’s had a product shop (where the “caring is cool” slogan tshirt was the standout bestseller), a lifestyle brand, a magazine and a podcast. I speak on stages about the power of enthusiasm and caring. But I realised something that I’ve never shared on here: why all the fuss on enthusiasm?

Simply put, it’s what makes life worth living. And I know that’s a bold claim and some big words — something I’m usually so hesitant to do on the internet I wonder if I should write anything at all — but it’s something I’m sticking to, and its magnitude and magnificence is why you need it too (not because you’re not already magnificent, obviously; just because we’re going to crank it up even more).

Enthusiasm itself can be hard to define. It’s zeal, zest, zhujzh, and joie de vivre. In the dictionary, enthusiasm is described as:

Yet, in society, it’s often met with disapproval and a distinct lack of interest. This is what I wanted — and still want — to change.

Throughout the years, enthusiasm has worn many guises. Originally, it meant religious devotion (which is where the word comes from, if you’re a word nerd like me); which is how it also acquired a negative connotation in the 1700s. Since then, it’s become a capitalist buzzword, as beloved by titans of industry in the early 20th century (looking at you, Henry Ford!!!) as it is by job hunters writing CVs in the early 21st.

Over the years, we’ve not only lost sight of why enthusiasm is crucial; we’ve come to actively reject it. As we began to prioritise looking, feeling, and being “cool”, enthusiasm went from a positive to a negative2. It became embarrassing. Suddenly, enthusiasm was “cringe”.

Thankfully, even in the past few years since I set The Enthusiast up, there’s been a really noticeable (and needed) pushback. We’ve discoursed ourselves (almost) dry on the concept of ‘cringe’, and the needle is moving so that it’s now something people know they can embrace (or, at least, be seen to be embracing…)

The truth is, being enthusiastic can help so many things. It can improve your mental health, your physical health, your relationships, your work, and other people’s as well. There’s very little it can’t better — even if only by a marginal gain.

Whether it’s on the playground, your Facebook profile or at your desk, enthusiasm is an incredible force we need to harness, protect and nourish.

And that’s why.

Main image by Thyra Morton

On our weekly rotation we’ve currently got Severance (omg) and Paradise (also an omg, and I worry not getting as much love as it should because it’s out at the same time as Severance), but in the background I’m also obsessively devouring The O.C. and all of the SNL behind-the-scenes shows that are coming out to mark it’s 50th Anniversary. Because if there’s one thing that I’ve learnt, it’s that I love lore.

Not just the lore of a well-written story, but the lore of a show or a film in its entirety. I’ve never particularly related to that meme that’s like “As soon as I see someone on screen, I google to know where I know them from” — that’s between them and God, because once I’ve watched a film I could not tell you what happens in it, I’m just happy to be involved — but I do immediately google the ‘real’ people a film is based on to contrast and compare, if it’s based on a true story.

I even watched Chicago for the first time last week, and delighted in being able to finally have context for that fact that swirls the internet every few months, of Catherine Zeta-Jones refusing to have long hair as Velma Kelly because she didn’t want anyone to mistake her moves for being done by a body double.

All of that to say: I’ve found my sweet spot, recently, with shows that I love, but that have 20+ years worth of lore to deep dive into.

The O.C., for example, was nothing short of a cultural phenomenon. A teen show that aired from 2003-2007, it spawned characters and concepts that will stand the test of time (e.g. the concept of “Christmukkah”, and the catapulted fame of the song California by Phantom Planet), as well as putting the O.C. on the international map, spawning Real Housewives shows and more.

It was also a formative experience for my friend Lucy who, as a fan from the beginning, has answered every question I’ve had re: on- and off-screen shenanigans — most of our Whatsapps have looked like this for months now:

What I love most about the O.C. it is that there are layers. Firstly, it’s a great show; it’s interesting, it’s funny, it’s easy on the eye. I’m hooked. Next, there’s the fact that I have the world’s pre-eminent O.C. scholar at my fingertips to give me the scoop on what was going on behind the scenes at the time (Two of the leads were dating! Cultural history!!! It’s important!!!) Then, there’s the fact that there’s a rewatch podcast, hosted by 2 of the stars themselves, so I can get the 411 on how they feel about it, 20 years on. Honestly, inject it.

My love for SNL actually came about because of the inverse. Some time in the past few years I realised that I loved the Lonely Island in a big, big way — like, in a “going to get a string quartet to compose an orchestral version of I’m On A Boat for our wedding” kind of way (and no, that is not a joke1). Since then, we’ve made up for lost time, devouring every project we could get our hands on.

The Lonely Island gained their fame on SNL, in particular with digital shorts — they’re kind of to Youtube what J-Lo is to Google Images. Last year they started a podcast with fellow former cast member Seth Meyers going through each digital short, talking through the production and reception of it. Here, I fell in love with SNL: the madness, the genius, the drama, the particular, singular energy involved in creating that show — and this fire has been stoked by all the behind-the-scenes documentaries that have been released to celebrate SNL’s 50th anniversary.

The thing I love most about this sneak peek behind the curtain at SNL is that they have *so* much material. Every story is backed up by a half century of record keeping. For example, in Ladies & Gentlemen... 50 Years of SNL Music, Tom Morello talks about a time when they tried to put upside-down American flags on their stage, but the SNL crew tried to stop them. To accompany this story, they played the actual footage — the screen is black as they prep, but you can hear the hubbub of the studio and the calm voices, measured by years of live experience, of the team saying “Can we remove those flags? We’d really advise against it, if we were you”. When Kanye stormed off stage due to a change in the set, you can hear the crew saying “He’s walked off, Kanye’s walked off”, and the chatter that ensues. It’s the old classic, show don’t tell.

On Tuesday, I guest lectured at Manchester Metropolitan University (although this is incredibly cool — and I am trying to embrace and embody that, and say yes, I AM NOW A GUEST LECTURER — it’s not that which I wanna immortalise on 35mm, because I delivered it a sweaty mess. Sorry, second years!)

To take advantage of the free afternoon, I’d decided to book a tattoo in, a cute little whippet-y guy with a bandana that I’d spotted by chance on the lovely Geo Dench’s flash.

Then on Wednesday morning, my sister and I went to an old favourite, Moose Coffee, for brunch.

WHERE IN WALKED THE CUTEST WHIPPET IN A BANDANA TO CELEBRATE HIS BIRTHDAY.

Legitimately, Freddie the Whippet (as we later found out his name was) was turning 2 with a pupaccino and a candle, and was so incredibly cute and well-behaved and gorgeous, and I think you can agree that I was equally as cute and well-behaved and gorgeous — and, moreover, calm — in my conduct (iMessage exclamation mark emphasis author’s own):

And as I stared back between Freddie and my tattoo and Freddie and my tattoo it felt all kinds of serendipitous and lovely.

My original intended meaning was the literal one: to eat more tomatoes with salt as a snack, because they’re delicious. Consider this your reminder that it exists: you’re welcome.

But it can also be taken more metaphorically. The reason I need to remind myself of tomatoes with salt — the reason that it deserved a precious space on my 25 in 2025 — is because I always dismiss it as too simple.

When I’m hungry, a bit peckish, or, let’s be honest, bored, I always think I must want a more complex, more impressive snack. A handful of those delicious Forest Feast dark chocolate almonds (a bag of which would require us to remortgage our flat). A couple of yummy TruFru raspberries (a bag of which would require us to remortgage our flat twice: once for the bag and once for the dentalwork, because frozen raspberries are COLD and my teeth are SENSITIVE1). But the answer is, and should always be, a sliced up tomato with chunky salt crystals on it. Sometimes, we overcomplicate what we think we need (or what we want to think we need).

I was reminded of this pledge for 2025 because I was at home home2 this weekend. On Saturday, we popped in to see my uncle and Grandad. Food has become an unexpected but lovely source of connection for us the past few years: starting with a Pasta Evangelists box for my uncle’s birthday in lockdown and culminating in a selection of delicious pastries from my pal Roxy at Flour & Feast every time we go round (it’s a hard life, but somebody has to eat this delicious viennoiserie!!)

Whilst watching my uncle making tea — in a mug older than me, plucked from a mug tree made by my dad in woodwork when he was 13 — I spotted a dish of juicy cherry tomatoes. When I popped one in my mouth as we talked, he responded with abject horror.

“Aren’t you going to salt it?” he asked.

“Ideally, yes, but I didn’t wanna faff around getting a knife out just for one tomato”, I (a martyr, a saviour, a reluctant yet ultimately expectant hero) explained.

With a look that screamed sweet summer child, he explained that the best thing to do was lick the outside so that the salt stuck (and I ate about 7 in quick succession, licked like a stamp and salted like the sea).

Maybe there’s a metaphor in that tomato lesson too?

Part of this is the natural backseat that The Enthusiast & Co had to take whilst I spent 2024 in illness recovery. But it’s 2025 now, I’m getting stronger every day, and I want to spend more conscious time interacting with an outlet that’s given me so much in the past few years.

(The timing of this, undoubtedly, is weird too, because last year I had a The Enthusiast career highlight and spoke on my biggest stage yet, absolutely loving every bloody second of it).

What that looks like, I’m not quite sure. In terms of enthusiasm, my expertise lies in experience, rather than academia — which, because of who I am as a person, makes me feel unqualified to talk on it as much as I’d like to (I know, I know: what would I say to someone else if they came to me with this same problem? I’d say — and often in fact do say — that experience is expertise, and that its valuable in and of itself). At various points, The Enthusiast & Co has had a shop (shoutout to Aisling, who still inflates my ego everytime she calls me “her favourite fashion designer”. Also, apologies to *actual* fashion designers everywhere) and a podcast (which I’d love to bring back, one day). Up until last week, I had a separate live website.

Basically, I feel like I’ve been doing it all a disservice, and I want to change that this year.

The other day wrote a post in which she referenced a brave post from last year, where she’d acknowledged that she had no active clients for her interior design business at that time. Whilst I’d previously kind of thought of Substack as a non-business space for myself (to help cleave the difference between The Enthusiast & my other business, Eleanor Mollie), hers was a thoughtful, insightful post that showed the power of vulnerable conversations about business in this space.

And so, here we are. I’ve transferred the main domain, theenthusiast.co, to go to this substack - for now, at least. I’m gonna be back on stage this year (confirmed!). I’m gonna figure out how best to show up, and continue to connect with incredible people, and I’m gonna find the best container in which I can be my most enthusiastic self, and it’s gonna be GOOD VIBES.

God, I feel lighter and clearer just having written this. PHEW! (And thanks, if you got this far).

xo

I spent NYE 2022 having an unusual medical reaction that would foretell the TSW that defined 2023 for me.

I spent NYE 2023 tentatively seeing friends before getting tucked up in bed, early, and watching the fireworks with a cup of tea — a lesson in balance and building back up, which felt like the theme of my 2024.

Now don’t worry: this is not a “how you start the year is how you finish the year so start it strong” post — not only because I spent NYE/Hogmanay 2019 in Edinburgh surrounded by strangers at a concert, and we all know how 2020 went, but because there’s enough pressure around this time of year, and any Event That We’ve Assigned Existential Meaning To, and just in life generally.

But it has got me wondering what next year will bring.

I don’t have prepared answers to many random conversational questions (you know the type - if you went to prison what would it be for, what kind of animal would you be, etc) but the one I can always answer is “If you could have any superpowers, which one would you want?”

The answer isn’t originally mine (in fact, every time I try and remember where I heard/read it, I inexplicably think it’s Paul Rudd??? So maybe I got it from him?) but it totally rings true, and it is the power to make more of everything.

It’s so clever, because I’ve not yet encountered a situation that this power wouldn’t solve. Innocent bystander trapped under a car? More strength to push the car up. Cat stuck up a tree? More branches for the cat to deftly use as stairs. World hunger? More food.

I know what you’re going to say: what about the situations where less is the answer? Well, that’s easy: you just make more of whatever the opposite is.

I always think back to this superpower — and this superhack — around this time of year. Because I am a maximiser through and through (something I thought I’d written about on substack but can’t find, so there’s the first post of 2025 sorted!), trying to do ‘less’ of anything automatically feels stressful to me — like I’m being denied opportunities or options. It also often comes from a place, even if from myself — especially when from myself — like I’m being told off for not being enough (which is topsy-turvy, because surely it should be the other way round. Isn’t it weird how wanting less of some stuff can also make you feel less than?) So instead, I like to think of what I want to invite and cultivate more of in my life — and how I can move towards it.

Some things I’m thinking of MORE of for 2025:

• joyful movement

• clear surfaces (aka “less clutter”)

• successful sewing projects

• income

• film photos

• an understanding of my wardrobe

• speaking opportunities

• confidence, assertiveness, belief in my decisions

• “good for them, and the same for me” energy (aka “less jealousy”)

and the list goes on. What about you?

Happy New Year - hope 2025’s a belter. X

I loved this idea, and, fuelled by the below Tumblr post by user @/songofsaraneth — the idea that new years resolutions can be Fun — decided that I’d also commit to a song-a-day playlist to encapsulate my 2024.

On Saturday, just 31 days shy of my goal, I decided to quit.

Sure, we’ve all heard of hanging up our New Years Resolutions’ Hat in January after a solid 7-10 days of effort, or going until the winter finally relents in March. But why November, when I’m so close?

Well, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re hurtling towards Christmas. But if I want this playlist to be usable, a time capsule of the year which I can enjoy again and again, I didn’t want to add Christmas songs to it. Christmas songs are officially allowed chez Kime from the 9th November (I’d have them on from July, tbh, but my partner’s birthday is the 8th November, so that’s the rule) and the remaining 21 days of the month were hard enough in terms of adding non-festive tracks; so I thought I’d cut my losses and create a 91.6% complete 2024 playlist.

At points it was an exercise in staying the course, but overall I’m really glad I did it. The only guideline I had for myself was adding songs that I’d be happy to listen to again — because otherwise, what would be the point? The result is a bit chaotic in places, but I love it and can’t wait to put it on rotation next year.

Here’s some random snippets of the year:

Positive Spin, by Gretta Ray (23rd Jan)

On a retreat I asked for suggestions for the song of the day - and Nao suggested this. I’d never met Nao before the retreat, but she’s now a treasured friend, and this song is a fab lil earworm too. Win win!

Jump (feat Nelly Furtado), by Flo Rida (11th Feb)

A friend who I was previously very intimidated by came round, drank wine, and showed me all of her previous horsejumping videos on Youtube, one of which was soundtracked to this. I used to be intimidated by her success and strategic mind; I’m now intimidated by her exceptional music choice.

The Secret to Life, by FIZZ (11th March)

Don’t you just love it when you hear a song once and then immediately know you’re gonna love it forever? That’s this song - heard it on Radio 1, added it to the playlist post haste, haven’t looked back.

Labour - the cacophony, by Paris Paloma (17th April)

Insert the Jake Peralta “Chills, literal chills” meme here, because this song spooked me in the best way. The message, the mood, the choir - it’s make-you-want-to-cry-and-then-riot good.

(Also, the song before it in the playlist is a Jersey House remix of the Kim Possible theme tune, as an example of the absolute chaos).

Lovely Day - Studio Rio Version, by Bill Withers (17th May)

This was playing in our local coffee shop and I lurrrved the vibe.

Long Hot Summer, by Girls Aloud (24th June)

Went to see them at the O2, was reminded of every single one of their bangers, am surprised that the days around this time in the playlist aren’t just a list of their first two albums in their entirety tbh.

Celestine, by Spector (13th July)

The song that’s been in my partner’s head the most this year and thus mine, by the powers of osmosis and also singing badly when working from home.

The Road to Mandalay, by Robbie Williams (6th August)

The day my cousin got married in Montenegro, and we all sang this song again and again and again (no idea why, it’s just clearly a family fave.)

Eurydice, by Killian Scott (16th September)

If there’s one thing you need to know about me, it’s that a soundtrack hates to see me coming. This song, created for a fake rockstar in a Netflix series, didn’t have to go this hard. And yet.

Sushi Glory Hole, by The Lonely Island (6th October)

This year was so good to me, specifically, musically. A Pitbull and Dolly Parton collab, new Rizzle Kicks, and then this: brand new The Lonely Island??? What did I do to deserve this, Lord??? This song is on loop in my brain at all times.

Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem), by Jay-Z

I’ve had the pleasure of helping a friend in her shop a few days this week, and she reminded me of this gem (by telling me it makes her cry, which made me laugh. Really laugh.)

What would your 2024 playlist look like? I’d love to know!