Hi, my name’s Jo, and I live here (gestures upwards) by a beautiful sea loch in rural SW Scotland.
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people nowadays seem to be overwhelmed by a firehose of opinions and information, and starved of connection and meaning
Hustle culture, relentless ads and spam and scams, grifters, bad actors, AI slop and well, just the endless bullshit and life admin… what a time to be alive.
I’m not interested in all that nonsense. I just want a cosy, contented, meaningful life and to feel connected to myself, my environment, my community and the people I love.
But I know this doesn’t just magically happen. I have to work at it.
So I take the time to write letters and postcards to friends I’ve carefully collected over the years, so our relationships don’t wither and die on the vine.
I write a daily journal to make sense of my thoughts, plan for the future and reflect on the past.
I take photos and record the seasons in a small nature journal so each day doesn’t blur into the next.
Every night before bed, I write down the best three things that happened that day, so I can end each day thankful and at peace.
I make time to sit with my thoughts. Because I always know the answer; I just need to shut the f*ck up long enough to hear my inner voice.
I use fountain pens because they make writing feel special, and a biro just doesn’t.
I bought jigsaw puzzles from a charity shop so I could spend evenings with a cup of tea and a podcast, engrossed in colour and shapes rather than doomscrolling.
I use tech intentionally rather than allowing it to use me.
I think most of us are happiest when we’re doing simple things like these, none of which are expensive or outlandish.
They’re literally things people used to do before tech companies made a land grab for our time and attention.
So, in this publication, I write about reconnecting with yourself and the people you care about by journalling and letter writing. I’ll also share the joy of analogue pursuits, and maybe what my life is like here in bonnie Scotland.
If this sounds like your bag, then pop your name in the box to receive regular virtual postcards from the loch.
Speak soon,




