From the editor

Liner Notes · Spring 2026

Hey, listeners,

This week’s song was written in a car park in twenty minutes and then spent three years in a drawer. The band nearly left it off the album. I think it is the best thing they ever made, and below is why.

Olu

Lagos, Liner Notes

From the editor

Cadence · Winter 2026

Dear riders,

This is our rain issue. We didn’t plan it that way; the weather did. So we rode anyway, and learned that the best café stops are the ones you reach soaked through. Dry socks are on page 40.

Isla Mackenzie

Editor, Cadence

From the editor

Saltmarsh · Summer 2027

Dear reader,

The geese came back on the ninth of October, right on time. We were there at dawn with cold hands and a flask. This issue is about arrivals: birds, tides, seasons, and the people who wait for them.

Amara Okafor

Editor, Saltmarsh

From the editor

The Pantry Letter · Winter 2026

Hello, hungry people,

This week I finally cracked my grandmother’s pepper soup. It took six attempts, two phone calls to my aunt and one very honest neighbour. The recipe is below. Please make it on a cold night and tell me how it went.

Nkechi

Abuja, The Pantry Letter

“

The sea doesn’t owe you a wave. Paddle out anyway.

Keanu Kahale

Surf coach, Honolulu

From the editor

Signal & Noise · Winter 2027

Hi all,

Quick note before the links. This newsletter turns seven this week, and it has never had an advert. That is only possible because 2,100 of you pay for it. Thank you. Now, three things worth your attention.

Ravi

Bengaluru, Signal & Noise

300

letters

Three hundred Thursdays in the garden.

The anniversary seed swap opens on Saturday.

Leaflet

Home Truths

42 min

Episode

035

Write it down in full

with Greta Lund, therapist

Mother Tongue · No. 94

Say it out loud

hiraeth

HEER-eyeth noun, Welsh

A homesickness for a home you cannot return to, or that never was.

Welsh, from hir, long.

From the editor

The Pantry Letter · Autumn 2026

Hello, hungry people,

This week I finally cracked my grandmother’s pepper soup. It took six attempts, two phone calls to my aunt and one very honest neighbour. The recipe is below. Please make it on a cold night and tell me how it went.

Nkechi

Abuja, The Pantry Letter

Prompt 157

The Daily Page

Describe a stranger you still think about.

Ten minutes. No editing.

From the editor

The Pantry Letter · Spring 2027

Hello, hungry people,

This week I finally cracked my grandmother’s pepper soup. It took six attempts, two phone calls to my aunt and one very honest neighbour. The recipe is below. Please make it on a cold night and tell me how it went.

Nkechi

Abuja, The Pantry Letter

Liner Notes

A letter by Olu Adeyemi

No.

293

On sale now

28 October 2026

The art of the thank-you note

From the editor

Mother Tongue · Late summer 2026

Dear reader,

Every two weeks, a language loses its last speaker. We can’t stop that alone, but we can listen while there is time. This issue is a recording, of sorts: words, songs and jokes that deserve to be remembered.

Chloé Martin

Editor, Mother Tongue

From the editor

Small Hours · Spring 2027

Hi friend,

Ten years ago I sent this letter to 31 people, most of them related to me. Today it goes to 48,000 of you. Thank you for reading on Sunday mornings, for writing back, and for making things before work.

Ines

Writer, Porto, Small Hours

From the editor

Commons · Spring 2027

Dear reader,

We asked forty people what makes a street feel like theirs. Nobody said parking. They said benches, trees, a shop that stays open late and a neighbour who waves. This issue is about those small, stubborn things.

Anouk de Vries

Editor in chief, Commons

From the editor

Mother Tongue · Summer 2027

Dear reader,

Every two weeks, a language loses its last speaker. We can’t stop that alone, but we can listen while there is time. This issue is a recording, of sorts: words, songs and jokes that deserve to be remembered.

Chloé Martin

Editor, Mother Tongue

From the editor

Small Hours · Summer 2027

Hi friend,

Ten years ago I sent this letter to 31 people, most of them related to me. Today it goes to 48,000 of you. Thank you for reading on Sunday mornings, for writing back, and for making things before work.

Ines

Writer, Porto, Small Hours