♪ ♪
(indistinct chatter)
♪ ♪
When I say five, can you shout this out for me really loud?
When I say two,
I need you to shout this out for me really loud.
♪ ♪
When I say seven, will you shout this out?
I mean, really send it out, okay?
When I say 777,777,
can you just say, "The prospect of dressing up as a Mexican wrestler"?
When I say three,
can you say for me, "Staying up past your bedtime
and being allowed to watch TV"?
♪ ♪
The list began
after her first attempt.
A list of every thing that was brilliant about the world.
Every thing that was worth living for.
Number one.
Ice cream. (laughter)
Number two.
Water fights!
Number three.
Staying up past your bedtime
and being allowed to watch TV.
Absolutely. (laughter)
Number four.
The color yellow.
Jonny: The color yellow.
Number five.
Things with stripes.
(laughter) Number six.
Roller coasters!
Number seven.
People falling over.
Absolutely. (laughter)
All things that at seven years old
I thought were really brilliant,
but not necessarily things
that my mum would have agreed with.
It was the ninth of November 1987.
I'm seven years old and I'm standing outside
the school gates waiting to be picked up,
and up until this moment,
my only experience of death
my entire life is that of my dog,
Sherlock Bones.
And Sherlock Bones was older than me
and he was a central part of my existence
and he'd always been there,
but he was sick.
He was really sick.
In fact, he was so sick
that the vet came to put him down.
Now, I hope you don't mind, I'm actually going
to ask you to play the vet. Is that okay?
It's just you've got a very immediately
veterinary quality.
But I'm not sure what the-- Do--
Are you a vet by any chance? No? No.
Okay, fine. Um...
I've not been right yet, but it could one day happen.
So you're gonna be the vet, okay?
So, if you don't mind, could you just stand for me?
And can I borrow your big coat? Yes.
Great. Okay.
So you're the vet, okay?
And I'm me as a seven-year-old boy,
and this here...
Oh.
This...
(laughter)
This is little...
Sherlock Bones.
And, um, do you know what?
I already know you actually 'cause you're one of the mums
from school, and I've seen you come
to pick your girl up, and, um...
when I see you, you say something
immediately kind and reassuring,
like, "You're doing the right thing.
It's not a moment too soon."
You're doing the right thing.
It's not a moment too soon. Yeah.
And I don't know what that means. I'm seven.
(laughter) I have no sense of finality or infinity,
but what I do know straight away,
what's really clear to me,
is that you are very clearly a lovely person,
and so I'm very relaxed around you.
And, um, do you have on you a pen or maybe a pencil?
Yes. Okay.
Great. Okay, so that pen there, that's the needle...
(laughter)
...and inside that needle,
there's a drug called pentobarbital,
and the dose is strong enough to render the dog unconscious
and put him to sleep
and depress his little brain and his respiratory system forever.
So, when you are ready, I want you to come over,
and you're going to inject Sherlock Bones in the thigh.
This thigh here. Sorry. Oh.
Now, I'm gonna stop. You are doing brilliantly.
Okay. You did really fantastic.
I'm surprised you haven't done any vet work, but...
(laughter) Just one note.
Just one, and that's when you're putting down
the beloved dog of a small boy,
you really shouldn't smile like that.
(laughter) I mean, it really...
You see how it-- I mean, it really changes the tone of the...
The euthanasia no longer seems kind,
uh, if you're enjoying it.
Okay. Should we, um... Let's do it again.
Let's go back to your mark. Let's get this right.
I mean, this is... This is pretty important,
so we need to get this just right.
Okay, so, um, take a deep breath...
(inhales) ...and when you're ready,
let's do it again.
That's great.
And now stroke his little head.
Aww.
And I held Sherlock Bones,
who was older than me
and a central part of my existence,
and I held him as he died.
And I thought about his toys in the garden,
and I thought about the smell of him in my room,
and I thought about his recently opened packet of food,
and his little bed under the stairs,
all the things we could throw away now.
And I as I held him, he changed.
He became heavier or lighter.
I don't know which, but different.
And that was my experience of death,
a loved one becoming an object
and being taken away forever.
Thank you.
So, it's the ninth of November 1987.
I'm seven years old and I'm standing outside
the school gates waiting to be picked up,
and normally,
it's my mum who comes to get me,
and normally she's on time,
and normally I sit in the back of the car
because I'm seven. I make things sticky.
But this time, it's my dad,
and he's late and it's dark.
Now, I hope you don't mind, sir,
I'm going to ask you be Dad, okay?
Very briefly, I want you to come and sit for me on this step.
So Dad pulls up in his car...
and he immediately opens the passenger seat of the car.
It's a British car, so that's this side.
(laughter)
There's a moment when something goes wrong in life,
and the body picks up on it
about a beat before the brain can understand why,
and that's what's going on here.
I look at Dad, and he looks at me,
and we both know.
And he's been smoking with the window down
and he's got the radio on
and eventually I come over
and I get in the car beside him.
You scooch. Okay.
So in this scene, what's actually gonna happen is,
I'm gonna be Dad and you're gonna be me as a seven-year-old boy.
You don't have to worry because you don't have to do much.
But whatever I say, you just immediately say, "Why?" Okay?
Why? Perfect. Great.
Put on your seatbelt. Why?
Because cars can be dangerous. Why?
Because other drivers don't always pay attention.
Why?
Because there's a lot to think about when you're a grown-up.
Why? Because there's bills to pay,
and there's work to do,
and there's family and friends to see,
and there's relationships to sustain
and there isn't enough time to do it all.
Why?
Because there's only 24 hours in a day. Why?
Because that's how long it takes
for the Earth to rotate.
Why?
I don't know.
(laughter) Why?
Because I don't know everything. Why?
Because that's impossible. Why?
Because if I was to know everything,
then life would be unlivable. Why?
Because then there would be no mystery, no curiosity,
no conversation, no discovery.
Nothing would be new, and we'd have no reason to use our imagination,
and it's our imagination that makes life worth living.
Why?
Because, um, in order to live in the present,
we have to imagine a future that's better than the past.
Why?
Because that's what hope is, and without hope,
we don't know how to carry on. Why?
Because would you just put your seatbelt on
and stop asking me questions?
Why?
Because we're going to the hospital.
Why?
Because that's where your mum is.
Why?
Because she hurt herself.
Why?
Because she's sad.
Why?
I don't know.
Why?
I just don't.
Why?
Put on your seatbelt. Why?
Because Mum's in the hospital. Why?
Because she tried to kill herself.
Why?
Because she can't think of anything worth living for.
Why?
At least, that's how I remember the conversation.
But what he actually said to me was this.
And you now repeat this to the room, okay?
"Your mum's done something stupid."
Your mum's done something stupid.
But I didn't know what that meant.
Thank you. You were excellent.
(laughter)
(applause)
At the hospital, Mum immediately saw me and said, "Not him."
So, I went into the hospital corridor
and I sat down with a nice old couple.
Hello. Hello.
(laughter)
And they immediately gave me some chocolate
from the machine. Thank you.
Now, I'm not sure where it was
that I first had the idea for the list,
but it was here with the old people
that I decided I would write it down.
Number one.
Ice cream!
Number two.
Water fights.
Number three.
Staying up past your bedtime
and being allowed to watch TV!
(laughs) That's good.
Number four. The color yellow.
Number five.
Things with stripes.
Number six.
Roller coasters.
Number seven.
People falling over!
Yeah, people falling over is funny.
(laughter)
Number eight. Chocolate.
Number nine. Kind old people who are not weird
and don't smell unusual.
(laughter)
I don't like it.
(laughter)
Dad was in with Mum for ages,
but eventually he came out of her hospital room,
and I followed him down the stairs,
and I followed him into the hospital corridor,
and I followed him all the way down into the car park
and into the car, and then he drove us home.
And then when we got home, I followed him back
out of the car and into the house,
and I followed him all the way up the stairs to his study,
where he went in before me and he shut the door
before I had a chance to follow him any further.
Now, I knew what to do with Dad.
He would put on particular kinds of music
to let me know how to behave.
If it was this lady singing,
then I knew it was okay to go straight into the room.
♪ I wake and I find you asleep ♪
♪ In the deep of my heart ♪
If it was the sort of music you could sing
or maybe dance to,
then it was okay to go into the room,
but I ran the risk of being hugged
or maybe spun around in his chair.
(woman vocalizing)
If nobody was singing on the track,
that meant Dad was working,
and so I needed to be quiet.
(instrumental jazz playing)
And if it just sounded like old musical instruments
were falling down the stairs at once,
well, then that meant I really ought to leave him alone.
(improvisational jazz playing)
Yes, yes, that's quite enough of that.
Thank you. (music ends)
And so, I stood outside his door
and waited to be told what to do.
(improvisational jazz playing)
I went downstairs
and I carried on with the list.
It occurred to me that the list should be presented
in no particular order.
I mean, there was no way of saying, for instance,
that spaghetti with meatballs
was intrinsically better than Garfield.
I fell asleep in front of the TV
and Dad must have carried me to bed.
23.
Garfield.
24.
Spaghetti with meatballs!
25.
Wearing a cape.
26.
Peeing in the sea and nobody knows. Yes.
(laughter)
That week was tough.
I had to go and see the school counselor,
who was actually just Mrs. Patterson
from the sixth grade.
She was the sort of woman you saw
and you knew straight away you could trust,
who was a good person, who was loving and loyal.
Now, I'm going to ask you to be Mrs. Patterson,
but I don't want you to worry 'cause you don't have to do much.
But you just stay where you are.
What Mrs. Patterson would do in her counseling sessions--
And I will admit, this might now seem strange,
but please bear in mind this was a while ago and she got results.
What she would do, when you arrived,
is she would first take off one shoe...
(laughter)
...and then she'd take off the sock...
(laughter)
...and then she'd take that sock
and she'd put it over her arm like this...
(laughter)
...and then she'd talk to you through her little sock dog.
(laughter)
And her little sock dog was called-- What did you call him?
Kino. Kino. Of course.
The perfect name for a sock dog.
And he was a brilliant listener,
and he would always start every session by asking
lovely questions, like, "How are you doing today?"
How are you doing today?
I'm very well. Thank you, Kino.
How are you? I'm all right.
(chuckles) You're brilliant.
I love you.
What kind of dog are you?
I'm a dachshund. A dachshund!
They're the best dogs in the whole world
'cause they're really small
and they're very near the ground
and they look stupid.
(laughter)
I think you're brilliant!
I'm gonna put you on my list of brilliant things.
Have I told you about my list of brilliant things?
No. Tell me. Okay.
I'm making a list
of every thing that's brilliant about the world.
Don't go on about it, but I'm probably a genius.
And you're going to be number 101,
Kino, the talking dachshund.
(chuckles) Okay, I need to go now,
but it's been lovely talking to you. Bye! Bye.
I left Mrs. Patterson
and Kino the talking dachshund,
and I went out to play.
(applause)
Now, Mum did finally come home from the hospital,
and when she did, I took the list,
which by this point had
314 items on it,
and was spread over eight pages,
and I put it on her pillow with the title
"Every Brilliant Thing."
She never mentioned it to me directly,
but I know that she read it
because she corrected my spelling.
(laughter)
I don't want anyone to think that Mum was a monster
or that my childhood was sad because that's not true.
My childhood was wonderful, and Mum was so much fun.
I mean, we had a piano in the kitchen,
and we used to gather 'round it
and we would sing old soul songs.
There's a wonderful old soul song
that my mum used to love singing called
"Drown in my Own Tears" by Ray Charles,
and she used to love singing this bit:
♪ ♪
♪ Why can't you ♪
Oh, and I love the moment
when Ray Charles sings the word "you."
I mean, it-- it sounds like
it's coming out of someone else's voice.
We all used to gather 'round the piano
and we'd just howl it like wolves.
Number 313.
Having a piano in the kitchen.
Number 314.
The way Ray Charles sings the word "you."
Ah, absolutely.
♪ ♪
♪ I guess I'll ♪
♪ Drown in my own tears ♪
I forgot about the list
until her second attempt 10 years later.
And as a teenager, I dealt with it less well.
You know, I-- I wore my heart on my sleeve, um...
I remember the night
she came home from the hospital.
She sat at the kitchen table and she said
if it wasn't for the ham and pineapple pizza
lining her stomach from the night before,
she'd be dead.
And I said,
"You took an entire blister pack of aspirin,
"half a thing of antidepressants,
"and a whole load of antihistamine.
"I mean, you're probably healthier than I am.
You wanna kill yourself, go jump off a bridge."
Heh.
And then rather than storm out of the room
as fast as I possibly could,
I just sat there and I shoveled as much food
into my mouth as possible.
See, I was so angry with her.
I'd spent so long cooking this meal
and all she could do was sit there and let it go cold
and wish she was dead.
There was a deafening silence...
and then she started to laugh.
It was such a genuine and wonderful laugh
that I found myself laughing with her,
and we just sat at the table laughing like idiots.
Eventually, it was Dad who got up and left,
went to listen to records in his study.
And that night, I went into my bedroom
and I started to pack away the things I no longer wanted.
You know, the things I felt I could live without
and as I was doing it, I caught sight of myself
and I realized I was shaking.
Have you ever had that, when you're shaking
and your heart is racing and you're surrounded
by things and you think, "I'm really upset"?
And then in a box, under the bed,
underneath some stickers and an action man,
I found the list,
and I sat down on the floor and I read through it.
You see, as a little boy,
I dealt with this so much better.
I mean, I hadn't been self-righteous.
I'd been naive.
But I'd been hopeful.
So eventually, I just picked up a pen
and I carried on where that little boy had left off.
315.
The smell of old books.
316.
Andre Agassi. Absolutely.
Now, Andre Agassi, yes.
It was the '90s. Uh, but he is a genius,
and, um...
you know, and then he married Steffi.
(laughter)
319.
The even numbered "Star Trek" movies.
Oh, yes. (laughter)
One and three are terrible.
(laughter)
320.
Laughing so hard you shoot milk out of your nose.
321.
Making up after an argument.
I took the list and I went and sat and the end of Mum's bed,
and I read it to her, and she got up and left the room.
So, I started following her around the house,
reading out bits of the list to her.
516.
Winning something.
517.
Knowing someone well enough to get them
to check your teeth for broccoli.
Yes. Or spinach or kale. Very popular here.
(laughter)
I started to write things onto Post-It notes
and stick them all over the house as reminders for Mum.
Number 575.
Woman: Piglets.
654.
Man: Marlon Brando.
And number 14. Woman: Bed.
That's right.
Now, every morning, I would wake up
and I'd find a small stack of these Post-It notes outside my door.
So, I became more inventive.
I started rearranging the fridge magnets.
I started carving things into pieces of fruit.
I remember writing 201.
Hammocks. Inside the lid of some mustard,
And 324.
Ham and mayo sandwiches.
Stenciled onto a baguette.
(laughter)
Now, I wanted to make it to a thousand individual items.
But I set myself some rules.
Things had to be genuinely wonderful and life-affirming.
There weren't to be too many material items,
and no repetitions if possible.
For the next few weeks, the list became my sole focus.
761.
Deciding you're not too old to climb trees.
(chuckles) 823.
Skinny dipping.
And then, in the final weeks before I left for university,
992.
Knowing to jangle some keys at the zoo
if you want the penguins to come out. Yes.
It makes them think it's feeding time.
(laughter)
993.
Having desert as a main course. Oh, my goodness.
(laughter)
994.
Hairdressers who listen to what you want.
This is vital.
I mean, if you ever find one of these people,
you keep hold of them for the rest of your life, okay?
995. Bubble wrap.
996.
Really good oranges.
I began to be troubled by the thought
that my mum no longer loved my dad.
But I put the thought out of my mind
and I carried on with the list.
997.
(distantly) Cycling downhill!
(laughter)
You made it sound like it was downhill!
That's...
Aw, you go on the list too.
998.
Pad Thai with chicken.
Oh.
It's common for the children of suicides
to blame themselves.
It's a very natural reaction.
999.
Sunlight.
And however much you know it's not fair,
you can't help but feel like you've failed them.
It's not fair to feel this way, but it's natural.
In the first week of university,
I took the list, I put it into an envelope,
and I mailed it to my mother anonymously.
(laughter)
(chuckles)
When I came home for Christmas that year,
I found the list...
neatly folded up in a drawer in my desk.
I have no idea if Mum ever read it, and...
if she had, it certainly hadn't affected her outlook.
I took the list, I folded it up
between the pages of a book, and I forgot about it.
That Christmas was quiet and awkward.
In the new year, dad drove me back to university
and he gave me his record player
and he gave me a box of his records.
I wanted to ask him why, but I knew better than that.
(laughter)
The whole journey, we didn't say a word.
We just sat there and we listened to the radio.
♪ Come to me my melancholy baby ♪
At university, I was incredibly shy.
I mean, I didn't socialize so much.
I wouldn't go out if I could avoid it.
I would just sit in my room
and I would listen to my records, um...
I would even skip lectures if I could because, you know,
I didn't want to leave my room.
But there was one lecturer I would always be there for
because there was something about him that was just incredible.
You know, something mesmerizing.
And he always wore a scarf and a hat.
I hope you don't mind, um...
(laughter)
I'm going to ask you to take on this role.
I'm not sure why.
Um, if you could just come with me.
I'd like you to play the lecturer.
So if you would just stand
in the center of the room for me...
Okay.
What he would do at the start of every lecture
is he would give a lecture on this book.
"The Sorrows of Young Werther" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,
and first he would take the book like this
and he would hold it aloft...
Beautiful!
...and then he would create a real sense
of dramatic tension
with a long silence in the room.
(laughter)
Perfect! (laughter)
And when he felt he had absolutely
built the tension to a maximum,
he would give a very accurate
and detailed précis of the novel.
(laughter)
Just read-- read... Read the back.
"Visiting an idyllic German village,
"Werther meets and falls in love
"with sweet-natured Lotte,
"and his infatuation torments him to a point
"of absolute despair.
"The first great confessional novel,
"the book was an immediate success
"and a cult rapidly grew up around it,
"resulting in suppression on the grounds
of its apparent recommendation of suicide."
Excuse me.
I have a question. Yes, sir?
You've taken on this role brilliantly.
I mean it. (laughter)
I want you to know I'm delighted.
Are you saying that a book,
that this book made people want to take their own lives?
I am.
And you still want us to read the book?
I do.
Ladies and gentlemen, my lecturer!
Thank you very much! You were wonderful!
I left the lecture
and I went straight to the library,
and I read up on social contagions:
obesity, suicide, divorce.
We are preconditioned
to follow the behavior of our peers.
In the weeks and months following
Marilyn Monroe's death by suicide,
the number of suicides here in the US spiked by 12%.
The same is true when a character
on prime time television takes their own life.
It's called the Werther effect,
named after Goethe's protagonist.
Suicide is contagious.
The greatest precursor to a suicide
is a knowledge of suicide.
When I first read about this, I was really scared,
and then I was really angry because I thought about
the way suicide is presented in the media.
I mean, there are a set of guidelines
written by the Samaritans on how you should
accurately and sensibly report a suicide.
It is astounding how rarely the media follow them.
"Leave out technical details about the method of suicide.
"Never suggest that a method is quick,
"easy, painless, or certain to result in death.
"Avoid dramatic headlines and terms such as
"'suicide epidemic' or 'hot spot'.
"Avoid dramatic or sensationalist pictures or video.
"Avoid using the word 'commit.'
"Don't describe death by suicide as successful.
Don't speculate on the reason."
I mean, that's really crucial.
Don't provide simplistic reasons
for why someone would do something drastic
like, uh, he'd recently lost his job
or she'd become bankrupt.
I read the book,
"The Sorrows of Young Werther..."
and it was shit. (laughter)
I mean, I had no interest in it whatsoever,
but then to be fair, I've never had any interest
my whole life in romance.
That is, I never had done,
until I caught the eye of the only other person
who was always in the library.
(romantic music playing)
(laughter)
♪ At last ♪
Our eyes met
across the crowded room.
I looked at her,
and for the first time in my life,
I understood the meaning of the lyrics to pop songs.
We would see each other across a crowded room.
We'd catch each other's eye and then we'd both
look away as if blinded by the light.
And eventually after weeks,
I built up the courage to go over and say hello.
Um...
Could you, um, deal with this? Thank you.
(laughter)
♪ The skies above are blue ♪
Teeth. Broccoli? It's fine? No.
Oh, good. Okay, great.
♪ My heart was wrapped up in clover ♪
♪ The night I looked at you ♪
Could I get you to move?
(laughter) Would that be all right?
Could I just put you where... elsewhere?
Could you just come and sit...
Maybe just come and sit here with the vet.
Um, okay. Thank you.
Say, I'm so sorry. Enjoy the show.
Hello.
Hi.
Is anyone sitting here?
Not anymore. Oh, great.
Thanks.
(laughter) Um... May I join you?
Sure. Thank you.
Hello. Hi.
Um... You're lovely. Thanks.
What's your name? Alex.
No, no, no.
Um... No, in the story, she's called Sam. Okay.
What's your name?
Sam. Oh, hi, Sam.
Lovely to meet you. Hi. Pleasure.
What are you read-- Oh, God, no. I'm so sorry.
We're in a library, so I need two books.
I need a coup-- Did anyone bring a book?
I need-- we need a couple of books.
Did anyone bring a book? Not that one.
Awful. Very bleak.
Did you-- I've got a book here. Thank you very much.
That's-- Ah, that's great.
And-- and someone else, another book?
Oh, one over here. Thank you so much.
Ooh. Rush...
It's quite a journey.
Um, okay.
What are you reading?
"Giovanni's Room." Oh, wow.
Wh-- what's it about?
(laughter)
Funny you should ask. It's set in the 1950s Paris
of American expatriates, liaisons, violence.
A young man finds himself
caught between desire and conventional morality.
Oh, wow.
You are so concise. Um...
I'm reading...
(sighs) (laughs)
I'm reading "Catcher in the Rye." Um...
(laughter)
You see, I didn't go to middle school, so, um...
(laughter) ...so I've never read it before.
But it's... it's great.
I didn't realize how much everyone was a phony
and, uh, but it's lovely.
Have you read it?
Yeah. Yeah, everyone has.
Um, but do you know what? I mean, if-- it--
it's worth reading again. A lot of people don't realize
it's-- it's-- I mean, 'cause it's so--
And do you know what? Um...
If you wanted, um... we could swap books
and-- and I could read "Giovanni's Room,"
um, and you could read "Catcher in the Rye" again,
and... and if you wanted,
we could meet up and we could, um...
we could talk about the books
and we could go for a-- a you know, a-- a-- a coffee
or-- or-- or a cup of tea.
or-- or-- or-- or-- or-- or-- or an orange juice
and-- and-- and then-- and then we could,
you know, maybe at 5:00 on a Tuesday,
we could go for a, you know, we could have a little--
I mean-- we-- 'cause I don't want to be too-- with--
'cause I-- maybe that's a bit too--
Would that be awkward?
Would you mind if-- I mean, would you--
would that-- would that be all right--
would that be all-- if-- if I was to--
(laughter)
I think so.
I had a date!
For the next few weeks, Sam and I were just
constantly exchanging books,
and she would read the books that I loved,
and I would read the books that she loved.
And then one day, she gave me a particular book
and she said,
"Really interesting read."
Really interesting read.
"There's something in this book..."
I think there's something in this book...
"...that I want you to read." ...that I want you to read.
Which because I'm a complete idiot,
I didn't realize was some sort of code
until weeks later
when I opened the book and the list fell out.
And I was mortified.
I mean, I'd never told anyone about my mother.
No one my whole life. I mean...
When I was a little boy, there would be times at school
when I wouldn't have socks on,
you know, or-- or there wouldn't be any food in my lunch box.
And I didn't want people to think
that just because my mother was...
And out of context, it was just a stupid list.
I mean, to think that a list of brilliant things
can combat hard-wired depression
is just so embarrassing and naive.
I got so angry, I went to tear the list up.
And then I... looked down it
and I saw someone else's handwriting,
and I read it, and it said...
1,000.
When someone lends you books.
1,001.
When someone actually reads the books you give them.
(chuckles) 1,002.
When you learn something about someone
that surprises you but which makes perfect sense.
1,003.
Realizing that for the first time in your life,
someone is occupying your every waking thought,
making it hard to eat or sleep or concentrate,
and that they feel familiar to you,
even though they're brand-new.
1,004.
Finding the opportunity to say this in a way
which doesn't involve being in the same room
at the same time as we're both shy
and terrified of rejection,
and if I don't say something now, it'll never happen.
(chuckles) 1,005.
Writing about yourself in the third person.
(laughter)
Thank you.
I have a piece of advice for anyone
who's ever considered taking their own life.
It's an incredibly simple piece of advice, and it's this:
Don't do it. Things get better.
I mean, they don't always get brilliant...
but they get better.
Thank you.
The next thing I'm going to say
to you is going to be...
incredibly hard for some of you to hear,
especially maybe the younger people in the house today.
But when I first read this,
it was the middle of the night,
and back then, in the middle of the night,
there was no means of communication,
no Facebook, no Instant Messenger.
This world is called 1998.
(laughter)
And so, all I could do for the next few hours
was just stare down the list,
and eventually, I picked up a pen
and I carried on where Sam had left off.
1,006.
Surprises.
1,007.
The fact that sometimes there is a perfect song
to match how you're feeling.
There absolutely is! Hit it!
♪ ♪ Okay, hold on.
I've got an idea. Right, hold on.
♪ Hush now child ♪ 1,008.
Dancing in private.
1,009.
Dancing in public, fearlessly.
1,010.
Reading something which articulates
exactly how you feel but lack the words to express yourself.
And I kept on going.
I passed 1,427.
Not worrying about how much money you're spending
on holiday because all international currency
looks like Monopoly money.
(laughter) And I kept on going!
I passed 1,654.
Christopher Walken's voice.
1,655.
Christopher Walken's hair.
And then 1,857.
Planning a declaration of love.
And 2,000. Coffee.
And 2,001. This song!
Especially the drums on this track.
Now, the single version ends after about three minutes,
but the album track continues for another four minutes,
and there's the most extraordinary extended drum break,
including a full kit, cowbells, and bongos.
In fact, do you know what?
Any song with a full kit, cowbell, and bongos.
Have you heard "I'm a Man" by Chicago?
Because 2,006. "I'm a Man" by Chicago.
2,007. Vinyl records.
I'm not being pretentious. The sound quality is better.
I mean, it's tactile. It's not been compressed.
You, uh, you get to feel the weight of it.
You can't skip like you can with MP3s and CDs.
Dad's study was just covered with vinyl,
and I used to love going through the gatefolds sleeves,
the making of the object.
In the morning, I took the list,
I went to the library,
and Sam and I kissed for the very first time.
And from then on, I just kept adding to it
every day more and more as a present for her.
♪ Take nothing less ♪
2,389. Badgers.
2,390. People who can't sing,
but either don't know or don't care!
4,997. Gifts you really wanted but didn't ask for.
9,993. Dreams of flying.
9,994. Friendly cats.
9,995. Falling in love.
9,996. Sex.
9,997. Watching someone watching your favorite film ever.
9,998. Being cooked for.
9,999. Staying up all night talking to someone.
10,000. Waking up with someone you love!
Hit it!
(drums) Okay!
This is the drum break
that I've been telling you about!
Now, I know what you're all thinking.
"It just sounds like a load of drums."
But hold on a second.
You are about to hear bongos! (bongos)
You are not getting into this in the way I had anticipated.
(laughter)
Uh, can you hold this, sir?
Thank you. Uh, right. Okay.
I'm gonna try to be more American!
Um, right. Would everyone hold up their right hand?
I'm gonna high-five the whole room!
Are you ready?
Okay!
USA! USA! USA!
US-- This is exhausting!
US... Oh, I'm like Oprah!
USA.
Now, I might have made a... Charlie?
Charlie? (music stops)
I'm so sorry.
It's actually...
It's actually a lot harder than that looks.
You see, the thing is my mum,
she would do things like this.
She would, uh, she'd get carried away.
Great big ups, great big downs.
When I was a little boy, it wasn't shyness
or awkwardness that made me like I was.
It was that...
happiness scared me...
because happiness is always followed by this...
well, you know.
And this... this was completely new.
I'd never felt like this before in my whole life.
Never once.
Children with depressed mothers,
they have a heightened reactivity to stress,
and, um... that makes sense
because children with depressed mothers,
they have to fend for themselves.
But the risk...
that I'd felt my whole life, I mean, the real risk...
(sighs)
...was that one day I would wake up
and I'd feel exactly like my mum did,
and I'd want to take the same course of action,
because alongside the anger and the incomprehension
was an absolute, crystal-clear understanding
of why someone would no longer want to keep on living.
I took Sam to meet my parents really soon after this...
and they were brilliant.
They were amazing. They were wonderful.
It was awful. (laughter)
I mean, it made it seem like I'd exaggerated
everything from my childhood.
I mean, Dad was phenomenal.
He made a lasagna,
played Cab Calloway records.
Mum told a story I have never heard before
about breaking a guy's nose on a train in Egypt.
And then after dinner, for the first time in years,
we got out the piano...
and we sat around it
and we sang old soul songs.
Um...
Could I borrow you just for a moment
to take an end and maybe you as well?
If you could take an end each, that would be g--
Thank you. Sorry. I haven't thought this...
That's great. Great.
(exhales) Okay.
Um...
Because we're in the round,
we're just gonna do a very slow revolve.
(laughter)
Okay.
Clockwise obviously. Yeah.
It was always Mum who would start first.
♪ ♪
♪ I'm so blue ♪
♪ Here with you ♪
♪ It keeps raining oh, more and more ♪
♪ Why can't you ♪
And Dad would normally never sing,
but this time he was amazing.
And he sung...
♪ ♪ ♪ That's life ♪
♪ That's what people say ♪
♪ Riding high in April ♪
♪ Shot down in May ♪
And, um, rather spectacularly.
♪ And now the end is near ♪
♪ And so I face the final curtain ♪
Which for me was a little too on the nose.
Oh, and rather brilliantly, um,
♪ Wake me up before you go-go ♪
♪ Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo ♪
Which he'd never actually heard before,
and so sounded a lot more like...
(plays slower) ♪ Wake me up before you go-go ♪
♪ Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo ♪
I mean, basically dreadful.
(laughter)
The last song of the night belonged to Sam.
It's one of the most beautiful songs
I've ever heard my whole life.
It's called "Some Things Last a Long Time"
by Daniel Johnston.
And after she sang that,
there was no way anyone could top it.
♪ ♪
♪ Your picture ♪
♪ Is still ♪
♪ On my wall ♪
♪ Some things last a long time ♪
Thank you very much.
The list grew.
By this point, anything generic or universal,
they'd long since been used up
and so list entries became more and more specific.
253,263.
The feeling of calm which follows the realization
that although you may be in a regrettable situation,
there's nothing you can do about it.
That's right.
525,924.
Track seven on every great record.
Absolutely.
777,777.
The prospect of dressing up as a Mexican wrestler.
That's right.
And not, I should add,
the action of dressing up as a Mexican wrestler.
Just the prospect of it. (chuckles)
Sam and I got married.
That was after university.
That was, uh... that was beautiful.
Sam proposed to me.
She got down on one knee and she--
You know, it was great. Let's just do it.
(laughter)
So we're walking through the park, Sam and I,
(birds chirping) and I said,
"This is where I grew up.
This is where I used to walk little Sherlock Bones."
(chuckles) And we both stopped to think about that.
(both inhale)
(both exhale)
And then she stayed where she was
and I kept on going, and you know what?
I think she bent down to tie up a lace...
because when I turned around, there she was on one knee.
And she looked at me...
and she held out both her hands...
and she said...
Will you marry me? And I said, "Yes."
Let's kiss later. Okay.
(laughter)
Thank you.
And so we had a wedding!
(wedding music playing)
We got married!
We hired a hall, we hired caterers,
we hired a band...
Even my vet came!
And the lecturer!
We hadn't invited either of them, but...
Dad made a speech.
Oh, it was the most beautiful speech you will ever hear.
You know, just ama-- And you know Dad.
I mean, he hated this sort of thing.
He hated getting up in front of people.
He hated having to say words
and I said to him, "Dad, you don't have to make
a speech if you don't want to."
And he said, "No, I want the opportunity
"to get up in front of these people
and say a few words."
Ladies and gentlemen, in a break with tradition,
please put your hands together
for the father of the groom.
(applause) Thank you.
Say whatever's in your heart, Dad.
(laughter)
(string music playing) It's hard at this moment
to hold back the tears of joy
I feel for the two of you.
Sam, that you see in my son all the beauty
that his mom and I have always seen in him,
but maybe we never were able to really express.
It was like the times when he asked me "Why?"
(laughter)
And sometimes I would lose patience, but...
I knew that he was at least listening
and you can't really ask much more
from a seven-year-old boy.
(laughter)
But I hope for the two of you
that he always lifts you up as he did that day
as you were walking in the park
and that the patience that you had, Sam,
to wait for his kiss
because he didn't want to do it
in front of so many others...
that in that intimacy that the two of you share
that you grow together.
Congratulations.
(cheers and applause)
Thank you so much. You were great.
My dad, everyone!
(cheers and applause)
After the speeches, when we recovered...
(laughter)
...dried our eyes a little,
we got to hear Mum, sat at the piano,
singing old soul songs. (chuckles)
And then Sam and I took a honeymoon.
We went to Whitstable in Kent.
We had... (laughter)
That's not a laughter moment. That's just where we--
It was wonderful. (chuckles)
We had the most amazing seafood.
We were so happy.
And then we moved to London
and we got jobs.
We got a new flat.
We got a mortgage, we got a joint bank account,
we got a car, we got a cat,
which peed on everything and then ran away...
which we called Margaret Scratcher.
(laughter)
And we settled into a routine.
We got used to each other.
We argued.
I mean, we argued about little things.
We argued about whether we were ready
to start a family, we argued about
whether we should live in the city of the country.
But we had one argument in particular,
and Sam always used to say to me
that I should get some help, that I should go
and see someone professionally,
but that made me so angry...
because I knew what depression was
and I knew that I was fine.
See, we had a study at the top of our apartment,
and I would sit there, and I would listen to records and...
whenever I listen to records,
I always go through the... the sleeve notes.
You know, the liner notes inside the disc.
You see, the lives of other people
have always fascinated me.
So, whenever I...
listen to music, I always find out
about the making of the object,
the trials and tribulations behind the music.
Albert Ayler,
Ronnie Singer, Weldon Irvine,
all amazing musicians,
all took their own lives.
See, I was so grateful that I was ordinary.
Sam said I was wallowing.
That I was isolating myself, that I was becoming morose,
so she said I should carry on with the list,
but I couldn't think of anything new to write down.
826,979.
The list stalled...
just 173,021 shy of a million.
It was over.
So, I put it in a box and I threw it away...
and I sat in the study
while Sam packed away her things.
I helped her carry boxes to her car.
I stood in the doorway
while she sat at the wheel of the car
and she looked at me, and I looked at her...
and the engine was running.
She drove away.
She left me a note inside the sleeve of a record.
The Daniel Johnston song she sung at...
my parents' house. She knew one day,
I'd want to think of her and I'd put the record on.
and I'd go through the sleeve notes
and I'd find her note, and the note said
that she loved me...
and that when I was ready, we would try again.
But I didn't find the note for seven years, so...
Perhaps Sam was right.
Perhaps I was very difficult to love.
Perhaps I was very difficult to live with.
But I couldn't hear it from her.
You know, I-- I had to hear it from somebody else,
and so one day, I did one of the strangest things
I've ever done.
Mrs. Patterson...
Mrs. Patterson, I'm so sorry to call you
in the middle of the night.
I know you're retired now.
I know you've, um, left the school.
I know 'cause I rang them and I asked for your number.
Um...
I don't know if you remember me.
I'm the little boy with the list.
Do you remember me?
I do remember you. (chuckles)
This is gonna sound really strange, but...
do you remember you had a little sock dog?
I do.
Could you...
(laughter)
(chuckles) Hello.
How are you?
I'm fine. How are you?
Well, I'm calling a sock dog in the middle of the night,
so, um...
I'm sad, Mrs. Patterson...
and I don't know how to change it...
and I can't remember if ever there was
a time when I didn't feel sad.
And-- and that's why I wanted to talk to you
because when I was a little boy, I mean,
you knew me better than anyone else in the whole world.
So, when I was a little boy...
what was I like?
You were a good boy.
You were a careful boy.
Was I sad?
I think maybe you were sad.
I think so too.
I really needed to hear that.
Thank you so much.
Good night.
I put the phone down and I made a decision.
See, I decided that
I did need to get some help, and so I did.
I went to see a group.
I went to see a support group.
Um, hello, everyone.
(laughter)
Hello.
Um, I've resisted doing this.
I'm... British.
(laughter)
Shy.
I find it really hard to talk about things,
especially the things that you're meant to talk about.
I mean, being a grown-up, being conscious
of the problems in the world,
the complexities and the tragedies,
it's really hard to feel joy.
Been making a list.
Been making a list of every thing that's brilliant
about the world, um, it's-- it's a present
for my mum, but that's a long story, so...
Well, actually, I brought it with me
so maybe I should just get it out.
You see, um...
I threw the list away, but unbeknownst to me,
my partner at the time, um, she rescued it
and she hid it and she put it in our garage
underneath a, uh, tablecloth
and then she left a note for me about where it was
inside the sleeve of--
Well, you don't need to know the details, but, um...
Pulling off a sheet of wallpaper
in one intact piece.
(chuckles)
"Mork & Mindy."
(chuckles)
My new sleeveless top.
Old people holding hands.
You know, if you live a full life and you get
to the end of it without ever once feeling
crushingly depressed,
then you probably haven't been paying attention.
I wasn't there the last time.
I was in Australia, uh, with work
and Dad wasn't around either.
And eventually, a neighbor came
and complained about the fumes
and, um, a fireman had to come and cut
a hole through the garage door.
Hose pipe through the passenger side window.
Which surprised me actually because Mum hated driving.
She always used to complain
about her ankles on long journeys.
They say it's a very masculine way to choose to die,
but I don't know what that means, so...
She didn't leave a note.
There was piece of paper beside her, but...
she didn't write anything down.
The radio was on.
I drove Dad to the funeral.
He smoked with the window down.
I helped him tie his tie.
And at the ceremony, meeting Mum's friends
and her colleagues, I thought about how much
the list had changed who I am.
How it had changed how I see the world.
31. "Birdsong."
45. Hugging.
341. Alcohol.
577.
Tea and biscuits.
1,092. Conversation.
(chuckles)
I mean, the list hadn't saved her.
It couldn't.
So...
I got a text that day from Sam. I'd, uh...
I'd like you to read it for me if you don't mind.
(clears throat)
Um, "I heard about your mum.
"Give me a call anytime.
"I'd love to hear your voice. Love, Sam.
"PS: I heard that Beyoncé is related
"to the composer Gustav Mahler.
This should be on the list. Truly a brilliant thing."
(chuckles) Thank you.
For the next few days,
I would stay with Dad,
and in the daytimes,
um, we would listen to records
or we would go out for walks.
And at night, I started typing up the list from the very start.
Number one. Ice cream.
And eventually, I got to the point
where I'd left off and I just carried on.
826,979.
The fact that Beyoncé is Gustav Mahler's
eighth cousin four times removed. That's right.
(whispers)
I finished the list, I typed it up,
I put it down onto Dad's chair
and I left for London and he never mentioned it
to me directly, but a few weeks later,
he called me up and he said, "Thank you."
Thank you.
And he said, "I love you."
I love you.
And I said...
"Sentimentality doesn't suit you, Dad."
(laughter)
Thank you.
999,997.
The alphabet.
999,998.
Inappropriate songs played at emotional moments.
That's right.
999,999.
Completing a task.
1,000,000.
Listening to a record for the very first time.
Taking the disc out of the sleeve,
putting it down onto the deck,
hearing the faint hiss
and crackle of the metal point as it hits the wax...
♪ ♪
sitting back...
listening to the record...
and reading through the sleeve notes.
♪ Your picture ♪
♪ Is still ♪
♪ On my wall ♪
(cheers and applause)
You are wonderful. ♪ On my wall ♪
Thank you so much.
♪ The colors ♪
And you, just amazing.
Oh, you were wonderful. You're fantastic.
♪ Bright ♪
Mrs. Patterson!
♪ As ever ♪
Thank you.
♪ Red is strong ♪
♪ And blue is pure ♪ Thank you.
Good night.
♪ Some things last a long time ♪
♪ Your picture ♪
♪ Is still ♪
♪ On my wall ♪ Favorite brilliant things.
Oh, my gosh...
When people smile.
I think sunlight.
Listening to Charlie Parker.
New York City.
♪ I think ♪ A really good...
meal with a good friend.
Trees. I love trees. ♪ About you ♪
Watching the Boston Red Sox.
♪ Often ♪ And my grandchildren.
They make me really happy.
♪ Often ♪
Woman: I was really--
I was incredibly nervous.
I was incredibly offended ♪ Some things ♪
that I got kicked out of my chair. ♪ A long time ♪
You didn't defend me. No.
Fame's changed you. (laughs)
♪ ♪