Hi Reader,

I am writing this from London.

Which still feels slightly surreal to say.

But I am here. With Ed and the boys. Elijah back in the city he was born in. Noah experiencing his first proper cold Christmas. Me, back in the place I wrote about leaving, with a published chapter about leaving it sitting in my bag.

But before I tell you more about that, I need to tell you about what my friends here did with my book.

When Anthologia Issue 3 went to print I knew I wanted copies in the hands of the people I love before the official launch day. I came across a hack on Instagram about selling through Vinted and within a few weeks a flurry of Anthologia copies had made their way to London.

I asked everyone who wanted a copy, friends, family, colleagues, to take a photo with the book and send it to me so I could post it on launch day.

The London girls totally got the assignment.

Not only did they take a photo with the book. They took it on entire days out.

My book has been on a London bus. It has been on the tube. It has visited the Cutty Sark and stood in front of Tower Bridge. It has strolled along the Thames past Big Ben. It has been to dinner. It has had a few wines. It has seen more of London in the last month than your average tourist manages in a week.

I cannot stop laughing about it. And I cannot stop crying about it either, if I am honest.

Because here is what that actually is underneath the hilarity.

It is women who are genuinely, wholeheartedly, embarrassingly enthusiastically in your corner. Women who did not just say congratulations and move on. Women who picked up your book and said we are going to celebrate this properly and then took it to the Cutty Sark on a Thursday afternoon.

And I want to say something about this that I think does not get said enough.

They bought the book.

They actually paid for it.

If you have ever run a business, sold something you made, put something out into the world with your name on it, you will know exactly what I mean when I say that. So many people will congratulate you. They will comment on your post. They will say they are so proud of you and they cannot wait to read it. And then they do not buy the thing.

It is one of the quieter disappointments of building something in public. And it is also why the people who actually show up with their wallet, not just their words, mean so much more than they probably realise.

My London girls did not just cheer from the sidelines. They paid for a front row seat and then took that front row seat on the tube and to Tower Bridge and out for dinner.

There is no greater gift in life than friends who truly want you to win and can celebrate that with you fully. And who put their money where their mouth is.

I am about to go and see these women in person. To have the turkey roast dinner and the crisp walk along the Thames and the Christmas lights. To say thank you in the way you can only say thank you when you are standing right in front of someone.

If you have people in your life who show up like this, tell them this week. Not when you get home. This week.

And if you want your own copy of the book that has now officially done London better than most people do London, the pre-order link is here. It launches 30 December. One month away.

In joy,

Alisha