Dear {{first_name | Friend}},

And so there I was yet again, sitting in a beautiful church, St Bride’s off Fleet Street no less, the Journalists’ Church built by Wren in 1672, the second tallest of his spires after St Paul’s; a remarkable gathering of good and great souls all around me, many of them people I first met as a scrawny graduate 20 years ago, all of them (like me) balder, fatter, greyer than when I last saw them a decade ago; exquisite music was played, and hymns sung, speeches given, recitals offered, all co-mingled with sadness at the occasion, thus creating one of those heightened, spiritual experiences that people of all faiths and none yearn for… when I found myself asking the same question I always do on such occasions.

Why is it that the one person who should be here… isn’t?

It is a melancholy fact that as you age, death looms ever larger upon your quotidian concerns. I’m 43, and feel about 27, but in fundamental ways it seems my life and diary are increasingly shaped by the fact of mortality. Or rather, the sudden, piercing realisation that its inverse - immortality - is a youthful delusion. There was that avalanche of grief a few years ago, which you may have heard me mention, when my dear Dad, childhood hero (Shane Warne) and best mate from university died in quick succession. But there has also been a constant stream of memorials, which seem to tick up in number every year. And every single time I attend one, I think: there is something wrong here. It’s a solemn, profound occasion, and at its root, something’s up. 

That something is the absence of the one person who would have most appreciated the effort put into this day, and the emotion expressed. I felt this at the gorgeous memorial of George Alagiah a few years ago. I then felt it more profoundly still at the memorial of Alan Yentob last year, which I had the honour of officiating. Knowing Alan as I did, every time a former BBC Director-General or some other Wonderful Personage recounted a fond memory or charming anecdote from yesteryear, I could see Alan’s infectious smile in my mind’s eye. And then that eye would come down to Earth, and see his coffin a few metres in front of me. 

This strange emotion, a mix of melancholy, regret, and righteous indignation at our tendency to leave acts of love too late, was out in force last week in St Bride’s, at the memorial for Sir Andreas Whittam Smith. Andreas was the first Editor of The Independent, when it was launched in October 1986. He and two co-founders, Matthew Symonds and Stephen Glover, left the Telegraph to do something outrageous and audacious: launch a high-minded, independent broadsheet to take on the mighty media barons of post-war Britain. It worked. And the mission they set out with, the family they nurtured, and the values they espoused created a community of paying members - readers - whose commitment and buy-in can still be counted on today, nearly 40 years later. There are deep lessons for the first days of The Amol Rajan Connection from the first days of The Independent, but that is a subject for another day.

Andreas was an ethereal, deeply Christian man whose knighthood meant a great deal to him. As Geordie Greig, the current Editor, said in a stirring speech, he was a good man as well as a great one. After his newspaper career, as Britain’s main film censor he had to rule on matters of pornography; as the man in charge of the Church of England’s money, he had more godly considerations. 

How he would have loved to hear Geordie’s witticisms, or his son’s loving farewell, or the reflection on that Spirit of 1986 from his co-founder Matthew, read by his wife; or the hymns - what stunning hymns! - we sang, or the rendition of Faure’s In Paradisum that brought all of us, even the atheists, closer to the stars, and maybe the heavens. 

And yet he didn’t hear any of it, and I know this might seem a somewhat otiose or reductive take, but isn’t that just the most appalling shame? By this, of course, I don’t mean anything rude whatsoever to his wonderful wife Valerie, who had the remarkable grace to say that the memorial only happened because I reassured her, at the funeral, that the turnout would be huge. (Typical Valerie: kind and humble).

We always wait until it’s too late. And we all of us end up thinking the same thing. If only the dead could attend their own memorial.

Why do we do this? Two reasons, both pathetic. First, awkwardness; second, indolence. On the first, I’m very English, but I have zero tolerance for the idea that if we organise a party for someone in their, say, 80s, they will think we’re effectively saying ‘Look, Susan! You’re 83 and you’re still not dead!’. Sure, there’s a small chance Susan will be offended. There’s a bigger chance she’ll love the party. 

I can see that if people are, say, terminally ill, there is a stronger ‘Not Dead Yet!’ element. But - and I hate to break it to you - if Susan is terminally ill, that’s all the more reason to organise the bash, not to avoid it.

No, I think the bigger reason is that, as a culture, we’re lazy when it comes to celebrating lives, and anticipating deaths. I just think we don’t do it enough. Sure, there are Lifetime Achievement Awards at fancy events, but half of those are corrupt, and this isn’t about professional achievement being recognised by peers and colleagues, lovely though that may be. This is about the people that matter most having the chance to tell you what you need and want to hear, because that’s the stuff that matters most in life.

This is probably the point in this week’s newsletter when I should turn the camera around, and ask myself the hard questions. Why do I care about this so much? Is it because I feel guilty that my dear Dad never heard, from all of his family and in one place, what he meant to us? Is it because I would give almost anything for one last party with Zaz, my uni room-mate, one that was all about Zaz (we used to throw some wild parties)? Is it because I’m egotistical enough to want my favourite people to throw me a party when I’m not dead yet? Yes, yes, and yes probably. But none of that weakens my argument, does it?

The good news is that the appetite for a change in our culture is strong. When I posted about this on LinkedIn and Instagram, the comments were about as heartening as could be hoped for. 

On LinkedIn, Alex Greenland said: “Wholeheartedly agree and I've been arguing for this for a while. There is something very British about our reserved and unassuming ego, traditionally at least. I think the winds are changing of late, with celebrations of life while living becoming more common. We still need more national occasions of milestones to pay tribute to those who have given so much. And as much for their families as for them. Where's This Is Your Life when you need it?”. Spot on Alex. Someone should bring that show back.

Heta Fell, a wise soul, added: “We hosted a celebration of life party for my grandma last year, who is turning 94 soon, and it was the best thing ever. A true celebration of a remarkable woman and very special for her to hear how much she means to everyone around her”. 

Over on Instagram, I loved this from Pippa Probert: “Absolutely this. We need permission, I think, to make a celebration of life before death a more ‘normal’ thing... not only when we know someone doesn't have long left but simply as people grow older. Big parties for significant birthdays are good. FUNerals are a great idea, too.” FUNerals - love it. Thank you, Pippa. 

You know, I want this new venture of mine to help fundamentally change our culture in many ways. I want to encourage young people to be financially literate and invest for the long-term, especially if they’re from poorer backgrounds. I want to give young people a sense of agency, so that they see themselves as victors not victims, and winners not whingers. For older people, I want to promote organ donation, especially after death. I want people of my generation and older to record their parents’ Desert Island Discs while they still have the chance. 

And I want all of us to stop waiting until people die before we gather all those who adore them to declare our undying love. Ask yourself: who would - who should - you organise a Celebration for? 

Come to think of it, I’ve just had an idea. And my goodness she deserves it.

*** 

Owing to the plethora of moral and legal obligations that come with being on the forthcoming series of Celebrity Traitors, I am of course extremely restricted and restrained in what I can say about it. That said, I really don’t mind telling you that the winner was, of course… oh wait a minute. That’s not on, is it. 

What I can tell you is, in all honesty, it’s going to be extraordinary television. Studio Lambert, the Production company behind the show, organised a screening for we castle-dwellers this week. Lots of the gang were there, Traitors and Faithful alike, and indeed more than I suspected based on what’s occurring in our raucous WhatsApp thread. And we laughed, and we laughed, and we laughed. One thing about booking a bunch of comedians is they deliver great jokes. Though a few of those in the room found it a rather traumatic watch, the vibes were lovely, the camaraderie was heartening, and hilarity flowed. It starts next Thursday at 21.00 on BBC One. 

***

It's been a bit more than three weeks since we launched The Amol Rajan Connection and it’s going… well, you tell me. I am so, so grateful for all the kindness and support. I mean that. By the time you read this, we’ll have passed 10,000 members of this club. That is really quite nuts. 

Every single one of those members is treasured by the Supreme Council of ARC, ie the small, brilliant team that I have assembled. Whether you’re a free subscriber or a paying member, we treasure you - thank you.

As of this week, paying members have access to some very funny behind-the-scenes (BTS) footage that won’t be available elsewhere. I hope you enjoy that. We’ll have plenty more BTS coverage when we start releasing the interviews (see below).

For those who have bought the Negroni or Pina Colada options at amolrajanconnnection.com, details about the virtual meet and greet will be coming to you shortly after our first interview, in mid-October. 

I should say finally here that our Founding Offer at the Margarita tier expires in under a week's time. Forgive the pun, but it really is a juicy discount. If you sign up by next Friday, for £29 a year, you can get the exclusive behind-the-scenes material; early access to our Q+A episodes; a monthly members-only "Ask Me Anything" episode I'm doing, early access to tickets for live events, and a bit else besides. 

From Saturday October 3rd, it will change to £5.99 a month, or £47.92 a year - that is, a 33% discount if you pay upfront for 12 months. But for the next week you can still get the Margarita for the frankly shocking bargain of £29 for the whole year. Trebles all round!, as Private Eye puts it.

Next week, the Celebrity Traitors circus rolls into town (see above). I will be doing a special bonus newsletter for members of this club in the coming weeks - though if you forgive me, I don’t want to say when exactly, as that might give something away that I’m very much not allowed to give away. You can certainly expect a hefty dose of Traitors fun on my social channels. If you’ve never watched the show and have no idea what I’m talking about, please don’t worry, normal service will continue throughout, too. 

From next week, you’re going to start seeing the ARC explainers format - the short videos, probably just a couple of minutes long - that will be a huge part of the ARC Universe. These will explain the ideas, trends and forces shaping the news. So not the ‘what just happened?’, but the ‘why?’. Please subscribe for free to our YouTube channel if you haven’t already, and you’ll start seeing those. 

These will continue through the week commencing October 5th and 12th.

And then on October 15th… our first long-form interview. We have an absolute cracker of a guest, but it’s such a get, and there are such particular logistics to consider, that I can’t yet say who it is. I should be able to very soon - and you will be the first to know. 

After that, we’re into the ARC rhythm - the long interview with superb guests comes out on Thursday; the shorter episode with them answering your questions on the following Monday (though earlier for subscribers). And the daily short ARC explainers will, I hope, be a joyful and enlightening sliver of your day by then. 

***

A weekly selection of life-enhancing delights, curated by your humble correspondent, in response to popular demand. I think you will enjoy them.

Visit:

I spoke at an event for eBay this week, and a lovely bloke called Will, standing at the back, told a funny story about how a few years ago his kids were behaving like monsters and he saw me at Bicton (full name, Bicton Park Botanical Gardens) in Devon. It reminded me of the many happy visits we’ve had there with the kids. There is a superb double playground, and I’m at a life stage where that really excites me. There is a wonderful little train that goes around the gardens, and trains have excited me through every life stage. There are indoor play areas, farm toys, and crazy golf, which I love. I spend a lot of time in Devon, and Bicton is a highlight. Worth checking out if you’re thinking of how to get through half-term with the kids. 

Read:

Letters to Our Sons, by Stephen Graham and Orly Klein. This week, I had the honour of emcee’ing a great night in London to mark the publication of this important book. Stephen might be the best actor of his generation. Orly is a top psychologist. After Adolescence, Stephen decided that to have better conversations about modern masculinity, we could perhaps start with fathers and sons.

It was a monumental tear-jerker of a night, brilliant organised by Bloomsbury and Fane Productions. Several fathers, some famous and others not, read aloud letters to their sons, some of whom were in the room. Danny Dyer celebrated the fact that his son was the best thing to emerge from his testicles - and then spoke powerfully about modern masculinity. Ashley Walters, who became a father at 17, apologised for the toll addiction took on those around him. 

I write to my son (and daughters, of course) often. We set up email addresses for them when they were born, and we're going to give them the password when they're 18. (Please don't tell them this!). I cannot recommend more strongly that you get into the habit yourself. This book is a superb place to start. 

Watch:

If you have children, Maddie’s Do You Know ought to be a big part of your life, if it isn’t already. Maddie Moate is one of the best broadcasters in Britain. And for a lot of families, one of the most important. These little 15-min access documentaries, with spin-off series on Plants, Home, Space etc are brilliant educational tools for children 3 and over. We watched a lot of them during the pandemic, and they’re all right there on the iPlayer. 

Listen: 

Aficionados will tell me off, I know, but I think Axis: Bold as Love was when and where Jimi Hendrix peaked - which is to say, a certain kind of psychedelic, instrumental, funk infused, rock’n’roll, glorious Americana peaked. My brother is a phenomenal guitarist, and when we were both teenagers, he had a big Hendrix phase after his Bob Marley phase. I mainly stuck with Bob but often return to Jimi. There’s that seminal line in White Men Can’t Jump, which we must have watched 50 times as kids, when Wesley Snipes says to Woody Harrelson, “you can listen to Jimi, but you can’t hear Jimi” - and I feel like it’s a lifetime’s project to really hear Jimi. Try Track 6, Little Wing; Track 9, Castles Made of Sand; or the final track, Bold as Love, one of the greatest musical achievements of the 20th century. 

Have a great weekend!

Yours ARCfully,

AMOL