An introduction to the Weekly Review
I have for some time been considering the best way to write more regularly without boring myself to death or getting distracted by irrelevant things, such as YouTube or family members. Unfortunately, I am yet to find a format or routine that truly satisfies my self-importance.
At the beginning of 2026, I set myself the goal of writing an essay once a week on a topic that piqued my interest, almost like an opinion piece you’d find in a newspaper (just slightly more pretentious), but that didn’t last very long as the mundanity of everyday life restricted the time I had available to produce such pieces. Well, prepare yourselves, as I think I’ve finally found the best way to focus my efforts – I have decided that I am going to deploy the same structure that James Marriott, the columnist for The Times that I hero worship in the same way I imagine twelve year old boys hero worship Iron Man or Andrew Tate, does on his substack.
Essentially, I’m going to try and write a weekly piece summarising things I’ve found interesting or amusing over the previous seven days; articles I’ve read in newspapers or magazines (I have recently resubscribed to The New Yorker), quotes from books that I am reading (Seneca’s letters currently have the honour of enlightening me), YouTube videos I’ve watched (there is a heavy focus on digital detox at the minute), witticisms from close friends (I imagine there will be relatively few of these), and anything else that I find worthy of noting down, including occasional descriptions of what I have been up to. In short, since I recently began using a notebook to keep track of my life, I’ve found that I’m writing down little tidbits of information that I would feel remiss if I did not share with the rest of the human population (or at least those with internet access), and I think this is the best way to do it. Strap yourselves in!
Seneca
I’ve been reading Why I am a Stoic recently, a compilation of letters from Seneca put together by Penguin Archives, and it might be one of the best little books I’ve ever come across, such is the succinctness yet profoundness of the teachings it offers. I’ll go into more detail in a full review once I’ve finished the book, so for now I’m just going to list some of my key takeaways from the first few letters I’ve read through:
- Are you really content with life if you cannot be alone with your thoughts?
- Changing your mind too often inevitably leads to sickness.
- Does trying to read too widely make it too difficult to properly absorb information?
- Pick one thought each day and focus on trying to properly digest it.
- Nothing will ever be enough if you always want more.
- Can you really be friends with someone if you don’t trust them completely?
- An incessantly busy mind is likely trying to hide from something.
- Self-improvement is the ultimate purpose of life.
- Live simply but do not turn simplicity itself into a virtue.
- Constantly looking forward, either in hope or in fear, will always create anxiety.
The Death of Book World
I don’t think I am revealing a secret when I share that I’m not the biggest fan of Jeff Bezos, what with his relentless determination to suck the joy out of every single aspect of life, but his vandalism of The Washington Post is enough to make even the most ardent capitalist weep. Bezos has recently sacked a third of staff at the newspaper – a third! Coupled with his increased focus on editorial control, it is hard to see his stewardship of this steadfast American institution as anything less than an act of cultural terrorism.
The reason I bring it up is because I read a piece called The Death of Book World by Becca Rothfeld in The New Yorker, which served as a magnificent riposte to Bezos’ idea of what a newspaper should be. Bezos has essentially announced that they’re cutting entire sections of the newspaper, such as sports and books, because their data suggests that people aren’t interested in them, but as Rothfeld writes, a newspaper is not supposed to pander to its readers established interests and prejudices, but to enlighten them and expose them to subjects that they wouldn’t usually consider. Newspapers should be a curation of the most interesting and important news, but also of culture, and the destruction of the books section in The Washington Post is yet further proof that late-stage capitalism cares for nothing except ruthless (and fundamentally misguided) data-based optimisation in the hope of eeking out an extra few percentage points of profit, at the expense of things that instead might actually broaden our horizons and make us happier.
Waterstones (Nottingham)
Two young men sit opposite each other in a cafe. One is tattooed with black hair and a mustache, dressed in smart trousers and a blue striped shirt, the other a more plain and younger looking chap, with blonde hair styled in curtains, wearing a black jumper and blue jeans. They each have an airpod in their right ears, both of which seem to be connected to the laptop of Mr Mustachio, and curtain boy smiles every now and again when Mustachio changes the song. I can’t figure out if they’re friends or something more, although the way they look at each other suggests the latter, since if someone looked at me the way Mustachio looks at curtains, I’d probably faint from a sudden spike in my blood pressure. He has an air of easy confidence about him, like he’s completely content with who he is and the life he’s living, which, in all fairness, I would be too if I was sitting opposite curtains. I’m having a cup of tea with my Mother, but there is little conversation between us, since I cannot help but stare at the two of them, quietly obsessed with the way they seem to be conscious of nothing and no one else around them, focused entirely on being in each other’s company. It makes me instantly and simultaneously feel jealous, happy, depressed, horny, angry, hopeful, lonely, excited, nostalgic, desperate, tired, hopeful, charmed, and content.
Lily Allen
Lily Allen has been one of my favourite artists for as long as I can remember, and is one of only two artists I’ve ever seen live (the other is Robbie Williams), but even so, I have found myself listening to her with a renewed vigour over the past week or so, and really focusing on the lyrics of her first few albums has made me realise quite how much my outlook on life has changed, for the better, since I was a teenager.
This has been prompted by the charming young man I currently have the pleasure of courting. Last Sunday afternoon, I found myself lying on him on the sofa in his living room, listening to him describe his love for the song Chinese by Lily Allen. I was slightly annoyed that his talking meant that he wasn’t kissing me, but intrigued enough by his admiration of the simplicity of the relationship Allen describes in the song that I allowed him to continue. For those of you unfamiliar with the song, it goes like this:
I don’t want anything more
Than to see your face when you open the door
You’ll make me beans on toast and a nice cup of tea
And we’ll get a Chinese and watch TV
Tomorrow we’ll take the dog for a walk
And in the afternoon, then maybe we’ll talk
I’ll be exhausted so I’ll probably sleep
And we’ll get a Chinese and watch TV
When you sit and think about it, it is rather lovely, isn’t it? It also feels quintessentially British, since I can’t think of anything more British than expressing your love for someone by buying them foreign food. In fact, as my new fancy was talking about how much he loved the song, I had a sudden urge to buy him a Chinese, although in the end we settled on a McDonald’s. Anyway, my point is that, to me at least, Lily Allen has come to represent a special strand of subtle British romanticism, and I find myself falling in love with her all over again, whilst perhaps simultaneously falling for someone who seems to love her almost as much as I do.
Finally, for the record, It’s Not Me, It’s You is one of the greatest albums of all time. Until next week!
