Last week’s letter was something of a love note to Paris. Well, it turns out that I returned from the City of Love with more than some extra joie de vivre. I came home with a heavy dose of French flu (the worst strain, non?) and have spent the past week in bed feeling sorry for myself and medicating liberally with Lemsip, zinc, vitamin C and Traitors. The only good thing about this bout of illness is that I missed the last, desperate week of January. With perfect timing, I’ve emerged phoenix-like (too dramatic?) just in time for February and, here’s hoping, with my annual flu already out of the way.
I think we’re all glad to see the back of this January. Surely the longest, darkest and windiest 31 days ever known to man; at times, it felt a bit like the new True Detective. But no matter how bleak your Jan was, you’re not Greta Gerwig smarting after the worst Oscar’s snub in memory (for the record, I absolutely hated Barbie but WTF, Hollywood?). Over on page 8, Hamish MacBain takes the Academy to task on their perversely unpopular nominations.
This week’s cover star, Raff Law, is already having a life-changing 2024 with the release of the Second World War epic, Masters of the Air; a series that will see Raff not only break through to leading-man status but also break away from the shadow of his lookalike father. It might also start another army surplus craze. Stranger things have happened... like Gen Z adopting full Latin-speaking Catholicism. Seriously, read all about it on page 20. Whatever next? Taylor Swift for President? Sounds good to me.