Publication day, as anyone who has released a book will know, is a funny one. The closest comparison is that strange, flat feeling that can arrive on certain birthdays when you receive a flurry of text messages telling you, with good intent, to “HAVE A GREAT DAY” while balancing the existential act of being one year closer to death. Something you’ve worked on quite privately is finally in the hands of strangers. It’s no longer yours, really. That’s a good thing but it’s not without a kind of grief.

To make a fuss always feels indulgent. To avoid it completely feels lame. In the end, I threw a party three days before, a big event two days before, worked from bed one day before and woke up on Thursday alone (M is in New York for work this week) with no real plans aside from going to work and trying to be quite normal.

It ended up, though, being one of the best days. The sun was out. I wore my favourite yellow trousers. The bus arrived just as I got to the stop. I got a phone call from M, snatched between his long days, and ate some incredible romanesco thing in Bonnington Square sunshine. I walked along the river, got on another impeccably timed bus and met a friend who had travelled from Sussex to make a fuss of me at Charing Cross. We popped into Waterstones in Trafalgar Square and she told the kind man (Steve!) behind the counter I had written a book and there were a pile of them, as if ready and waiting, for me to sign. Then we did the same thing in Big Foyles. It was the first evening that it was light after work, and the late sunshine made everything glint. We went to our favourite no-frills dumpling house and she ordered for us both (my favourite thing, to get surprises and no decision-making at dinner) and sat and talked until the very polite waiter told us that, no, we really had to go, there was a queue. I got home to find a framed print of Why Women Grow’s cover wrapped up in tissue paper and string on the doorstep, and spent an hour on the phone with the first person I’d ever told about writing the book. It was magic, it really was, and I feel so fortunate to be able to have days like that.

One final little celebration: a publication week discount on paid memberships - 20% off, meaning you can subscribe for a year for £24; that’s less than half what many newsletter subscriptions cost. Make sure you sign up by next Thursday, when it’ll go back to the usual £30 a year (still a barg, imo!)

Get 20% off for 1 year

Other good (non-book!) things this week:...