How To Fail With Elizabeth Day - Charlie Mackesy – ‘Grief propelled me into work that saved me’
Episode Date: July 8, 2026In this episode, I sit down with bestselling author‑illustrator Charlie Mackesy, whose work – The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse – has become a global touchstone for kindness, vulnerabilit...y and hope. Yet Charlie’s path was anything but straightforward: he grew up feeling inherently at fault, shaped by the pressures of competitive schooling and the emotional weight of carrying the painful stories readers now share with him. He talks about failing his driving test four times and the devastating loss of his best friend, Jamie, in a car crash – a grief that propelled him to London and sparked the first moment he began drawing compulsively, with music as solace. Charlie reflects on not achieving what he calls “conventional success” through marriage or children, the underrated importance of friendship and the power of kindness and self‑compassion. We also explore his years of not earning a living as an artist – a period he now sees not as failure, but as an essential process. Charlie urges us to create without fear, to let go of perfection and to live fully in the imperfect present. ✨ IN THIS EPISODE: 00:00 Intro 03:44 Feeling at Fault 04:30 Outsider and School Years 05:55 Carrying Others Stories 13:57 Animals and Ducklings 17:08 Driving Test Failure 18:06 Loss and Aftermath 20:05 Grief Fuels Art 23:14 Bottling Emotions 25:07 Remember Mothers Word 28:28 Mum’s Tactile Reading 29:44 Dementia and Story Comfort 33:21 Redefining Success 37:46 Friendship Essentials 40:37 Kindness and Self Talk 46:09 Failing as an Artist 💬 QUOTES TO REMEMBER: “When people tell you their weight, their sadness, anything, their failings, whatever it is they tell you, treat it like they’re giving you gold.” “I just wrote a book about a mole who likes cake and friends who are journeying in a difficult way with each other… but I think people just want to be heard and seen.” “None of us get out of here alive, so why not try? What have you got to lose?” 🔗 LINKS + MENTIONS: Charlie’s latest book, Always Remember: The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, the Horse and the Storm, is available from all major UK booksellers. Join the How To Fail community: www.howtofail.supportingcast.fm/#content Elizabeth’s Substack: www.theelizabethday.substack.com 📚 WANT MORE? Jacqueline Wilson - this episode explores how Jacqueline Wilson’s life and career never followed a predictable path. She didn’t become a bestseller until her 40s and the setbacks she faced helped shape the writer she became. It reflects on the imagination and resilience behind unforgettable characters like Tracy Beaker, her ability to reinvent herself, most recently with The Primrose Railway Children and the creativity and determination that have sustained a career spanning more than 100 books. Ultimately, it’s about a woman interrogating creativity, perseverance and the determination required to keep going: swap.fm/l/PawxjS1dFBaohoKZXfpL 💌 LOVE THIS EPISODE? Subscribe on Spotify, Apple or wherever you get your podcasts Leave a 5⭐ review – it helps more people discover these stories 👋 Follow How To Fail & Elizabeth: Instagram: @elizabday TikTok: @howtofailpod Podcast Instagram: @howtofailpod Website: www.elizabethday.org Guest bookings for How To Fail only come from official @sonymusic.com emails Elizabeth and Charlie answer listener questions in our subscriber series: www.howtofail.supportingcast.fm/#content Have a failure you’re trying to work through for Elizabeth to discuss? Click here to get in touch: howtofailpod.com Production & Post Production Coordinator: Eric Ryan Engineer: Matias Torres Assistant Producer: Shania Manderson Senior Producer: Hannah Talbot Executive Producer: Alex Lawless Find more great podcasts from Sony Music Entertainment at sonymusic.com/podcasts To bring your brand to life in this podcast, email podcastadsales@sonymusic.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
Transcript
Discussion (0)
You know, I had a brilliant therapist once,
who was actually an ex-Franiscan monk.
And he said, when people tell you their weight, their sadness, anything,
their failings, whatever it is they tell you,
treat it like someone's, they're giving you gold.
And my best friend at the time, Salius, I suppose,
in my heart was Jamie who was killed in his car,
I think six months late.
And he just looked at me and he had tears pouring down his face.
And I looked at him and then I had tears pouring down my face.
And I held his hand and then gave him a hug.
And we never spoke.
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Welcome to How to Fail with me, Elizabeth Day.
This is the podcast that believes failure is simply what makes us human.
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Well, hello. Bonjour. I'm called Simon Mayo. And I'm called Mark Cobode.
Coming up on this week's take, reviews of Nirvana, the band, the show, The Movie,
Minions and Monsters, a catch-up review of Supergirl from last week, because they screened it too late,
and the invite with our special guest.
Two of its stars, Ed Norton and Olivia Wilde, who also direct the movie.
Do not miss this week's take.
If you haven't met my guest today in person, the chances are you are familiar with his work on the page.
Perhaps you saw one of his illustrations during the pandemic on phone screensavers and hospital walls and insolves.
Instagram grids. Perhaps you remember his familiar handwriting, shaping the question, what's the bravest thing
you've ever said? And the answer, help. Or perhaps you've read his books with their tales of a curious boy,
a cake-obsessed mole, an anxious fox, and a sage old horse, and you've been forever changed by their
accessible wisdom. Their author is Charlie Macassie, whose outdoorsy childhood in Hexham, Northumberland,
later informed his love of nature and wildlife. He briefly attended university twice, but left on both
occasions within a week. He started out as an illustrator and a cartoonist for the spectator and Oxford
University Press. But in 2019, shortly before turning 60, Mackenzie's life changed overnight when a book he had
written and illustrated, the boy, the mole, the fox and the horse, spent 152 weeks in the
Sunday Times bestseller list. It was translated into over 40 languages, sold more than 10 million
copies, and was turned into an Oscar-winning animated film in 2022. Three years later, Macasey published
the sequel, Always Remember, which became the UK's Christmas number one. While his work has helped
thousands of readers, many of whom come up to him at book signings and tell Macasey he saved
their lives. It hasn't necessarily helped him feel better about his own perceived flaws.
That's been my feeling most of my life, he says. Somewhere deep within me, most of the time,
the feeling is, yeah, I'm in trouble somewhere. It's my fault. I did it. Charlie McAcee.
Did I say that? You did say that. It's true. Welcome to Hage.
fail. Thank you for having me. Are you feeling it now? I'm mainly feeling quite sweaty because
isn't it the hottest day in 100 years? It's the hottest day of the year. And because we're
in a studio and the audio quality is important, we can't put on the aircon. So this is like a Bikram
podcasting session. Okay. Apologies. Does the temperature affect the sound? There's a thing.
No, the sound of the aircon, the whir of the fan. The temperature affects the quality of the interview I'm going
to get.
When can you first remember feeling like that, that you must be at fault in some way?
I'm not sure.
It's a bit like when you are a bit uncomfortable with something and you realize at some point
that it's a song that you don't like is playing.
So it happens, we go, oh, that, yeah.
So when out, I don't know, but I think it's this kind of, it's an undercurrent, isn't it?
Yes.
Someone somewhere is really annoying.
It's interesting because I have the same thing.
Do you?
Definitely.
You always had?
It's actually a really different question to answer, isn't it?
Yeah, exactly.
There you go.
At when?
I think I've always been quite aware of it.
Have you?
Yes.
The answer I tend to reach for is that aged for my family and I moved to the north of Ireland.
Yes.
And as you can hear, I speak with a very English accent.
And so I, even though it was my husband,
home. I didn't feel necessarily that I belonged. And so I think there was an observational quality
to a lot of my experience. And I think being an observer is closely linked to feeling like an outsider.
So that sense of not fitting in and being slightly wrong probably dates from that point.
Yeah. Like the sound of you is wrong. Yes, exactly.
Yeah. Because you got sent to boarding school. I wonder if it started there.
Yeah, I don't know, yeah, probably
I think the way the system was set up
was very much you're in competition
with each other
which is a strange way of going about things
like there's a corridor of
of constant test results for various subjects
and you could always see where you were on the list
and of course I was always eighth equal
or 12th or bottom
and so you're constantly being reminded
that you're not what you could be
And then, but yeah, then I went to a brilliant Georgie school in Hexham.
And then again, with a posh voice.
And that wasn't easy, but they were so gorgeous.
But in the end, I had no reason to feel anything that loved.
We were talking before we started recording about the fact that you've just come back from a trip to a book festival.
You often do these events because your work is so important to people.
And although I think you're shrivel at my saying this, you are a beloved and popular author.
I'm shriveling exactly.
Okay.
We can't tell.
It's all internal shrivel.
And you have come back from this event and many, many people in the audience shared their experiences with you, their trauma with you, their survival with you.
And I wanted to ask you how you feel about carrying those.
stories.
Carrying them.
It's a really good question.
I thought you were going to say,
how do you feel about hearing them,
which is a privilege?
Carrying them is different.
I think normally what happens
is I listen to those things
and often get really moved,
cry with a good number of people.
And then afterwards,
it feels like a train
is slowly hitting me.
And then I go,
don't go back to where I'm staying and sit on the bed and look out the window and try to look at
something, anything that is, takes my mind off because I can't, it's so too much sometime.
And then I think I try to, there was a moment in lockdown. I always remember it.
In those days, those days, I had, you know, a lot of people messing me all the time.
And I, listen, I'm no sage. I just wrote a book about a mole who likes cake and, you know,
friends who were journeying in a difficult way with each other and feeling uncomfortable
that things.
But I don't really have, you know, I think people just want to be heard probably in
scene.
And so they were saying, ah, I'm a nurse in a ward and my two friends have died and, you know, help.
And I remember pushing my bike through a field one morning with Barney, the ducks in the basket.
and just suddenly stopping and feeling it was almost like someone turning on taps in my head
and I just, it was just, and I was just weeping and weeping and weeping standing there for,
and then lay down.
And I was thinking, you know, when something happens, it's almost passive.
I didn't choose it and wondering what it was.
And I suppose as the body needs to let go with stuff, right?
Yes.
Maybe my subconscious saying, you're not going to do this, so we're going to do it.
Or something, but I cried for a good half an hour and lay down and then felt better for it.
But yeah, it's a very good question, and I don't think I carry it very well.
But I do see it as a privilege.
You know, I had a brilliant therapist once, who was actually an ex-Franiscan monk.
and he said when people tell you their weight, their sadness, anything, their failings,
whatever it is they tell you, treat it like someone's, they're giving you gold,
receive it like they're giving you gold.
And I always think of that line and someone's telling me they've been in rehab for three years
and a drawing has helped them and I just imagine them doing that.
Yes.
you know and I find it really overwhelming to see it that way so in a sense it's a privilege but to carry it
we can't really you said something that I'm going to disagree with about the feeling that you don't
think you carry it well and actually I think you are such an empath and a feeler that the feeling
is the it is the message the feeling is the thing and so actually
it's the most beautiful way
I think you can respond
and there is something
quite monk-like about it actually
now that I think about it
that's a lovely thing to say
I mean I think I'm usually lost for words
because you'll feel it
you feel it
and sometimes there's a long silence
where someone just says something
and you look at them
the first time it happened
was when I first started doing these drawings
and I put on an exhibition in the gallery
and didn't think anyone would really come
You know, my mum maybe and my sister and friends might turn up.
And it was quite scary.
And I remember a girl bringing her boyfriend to see me.
And he was huge.
He looked like he played rugby for Ireland, you know, number eight or something.
And she said, this is whoever.
And I said, hello.
You love Johnny.
And he looked at me and I was sitting down.
And he just looked at me and he had tears pouring down his face.
And I looked at him and then I had tears pouring down my face.
And I held his hand and then gave him a hug.
And we never spoke.
Wow.
Yeah.
And I had no idea.
I didn't need to know.
It wasn't my business to know.
But it was plenty for him to, there was a lot.
He said a lot.
Yes.
I think all the most profound human experiences lie beyond words.
And words are the closest approximation we,
can get to in this fallible.
They're an attempt, aren't they?
Yes.
And I think you'll probably ask quite a lot,
like why you think your work resonates.
And I'm not going to ask you that
because I don't think you need to put words to it.
But I would like to ask you about your characters
and whether you feel that your characters are facets of you.
Talk me through how you see them.
I didn't know that for a long time.
I generally don't know a lot.
And I usually am retrospective if I do and go, oh, that's why I ran naked through a field.
You're always that kind of thing where I have no idea what I'm doing till after us.
And similarly with this, this journalist for the Independent in just half the book came out said,
of course, you know, we understand what you're doing there for four different parts of you.
And I was sort of, oh, yes, you're right.
So I think, yeah, they are or different facets of maybe being human.
or sort of we can't be too clear about it
but generally speaking
we have different ways of operating
and coping mechanisms and various things about us
and those four characters are definitely how I have operated
a lot of my life I think.
How do you describe them?
What are their characteristics?
Well the boy is, the boy usually has all the questions
is anxious, pretty much about everything
and probably thinks he's in trouble
or too ordinary
or what happens if
or you know
one day I'll discover I'm ordinary
and all these things he feels
the fox is
sort of that
wounded side
that can't trust
and is sort of
wryly observing
people
relationships, connections, and going, you know. And then the mole is the bit of me that, as,
you know, when things are tricky, I'll reach for the crisps, cheese and onion, usually,
snacks. You just lunges for things to comfort. But underneath it all, I think, you know,
the mole is the addictive sort of personality. And then the horse is probably the deepest part of us.
Now, why isn't there a cat?
Would you like one?
Yes, please.
I love cats.
Dee?
Yes.
I mean, I love all animals, but I have a very special cat.
I mean, there are many animals to squeeze in.
There are, there are.
Similarly, ducklings.
I mean, I just left, I came from Suffolk this morning,
and I've been looking after some ducklings whose mother was killed in April,
and I'm their mother or father.
And they're just ducks that just basically ducklings are,
hamburgers until they can fly.
They're just wandering around saying,
I'm a snack, anyone.
They've got nothing.
Their beaks are like soft lolley sticks.
And they're surrounded by this terrifying.
It's like the pond,
my next to my cottage is literally like a stage
on which has played this terrifying
three-part drama every night.
Have you protected them all so far?
Well, I didn't protect the moment because she was taken.
Oh gosh.
But they can, they're 12, was it two or three days ago, they,
when they can fly, they're okay because they've been escaped danger and they flew across the point.
Oh.
I filmed it by accident.
What a moment.
This was yesterday.
Three days ago, yeah.
Three days ago, yeah.
What a moment.
But I was just filming there, Sydney, and then they all decided and they came straight.
I mean just, and then when they land,
it's like potatoes landing, they just don't know how to land.
It's like, oh, what am I doing?
Okay, but it's very moving that.
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Your first failure for today is that you failed your driving test four times.
I did, yeah, yeah.
Why do you think that was?
Probably didn't listen enough to what was being asked, too nervous, anxious.
And also, the worst one was the fourth one, where I was quite hungover, aged 18.
and without indicating I pulled the car over onto a pedestrian pavement,
opened the door and threw up.
And I remember throwing, you know how you throw out your eyes watering?
And then I looked across at the examiner.
He had his thing.
He was just, the look he gave me.
It's just, you know.
And so, yeah, so it was interesting because actually in retrospect,
I'm quite, it's really quite good.
I think, you know, they're there for a reason these tests, right?
And if I'd passed, I may well have been sitting here.
You know what I mean?
Like I was a reckless boy.
Yes.
And my best friend at the time, Salihers, I suppose, in my heart was Jamie who was killed in his car, I think six months later.
And it was those moments where I remember four of us blowed him into this hole.
And I remember looking into the hole and thinking, well,
what do we do now?
Everything's different now.
The red line drawn now.
You could feel it.
Nothing will ever be the same now.
And then I went mad for a while.
I'm so sorry that you went through that.
And I'm so sorry that Jamie's no longer here in a physical sense.
Can you tell me about him?
What was he like?
He was amazing because I, well, he was funny and kind and also was quite, I was often prone to lows.
I went to go through quite loads and he would see them and often would pull me out of them in the sort of stop, stop moping.
Let's get on and do something.
And it would annoy me for 10 minutes and then it worked.
or you go and feed some sheep or do something
and I think he was
one of those people that we love music
played the same songs,
just
you know
talked about girlfriends
failed at them
ate together, drank together
and I was at school then
but I definitely like the loss of him
you know we all have everyone
has losses and I
they think part of you
goes the bit that
you, I think we're different
with every person more close to
we're basically a different side of us.
And so that was
you know, I think him a lot still.
But what's
interesting about that was the sort of
you have these sort of salient
cataclysmic moments of your life where
where something happens
and I then, for some reason,
ended up
you know, getting a lift to London
never been before, and then staying on floors and seeing an ink pen on a table,
three or four days after the funeral maybe, and picking it up and asking if I could borrow it,
and I walked out into the street. It was in Battersea and sat down and started drawing the street
without even thinking about it. And then I did that drawing, so it went into Battersea Park and
do again. And I thought, oh, I like this. And what was happening was I had borrowed these
headphones with a tape. And I was really moved when I was doing it. And the combination in it,
I started crying. And the music and the drawing helped me. And I haven't really stopped since.
so really that's what happened.
Goodness.
Yeah, it's mad really.
Yeah.
When you trace your steps back, there's always these little things, aren't there?
It could be a word or a sentence or a friend or something, and it was that pen on that table.
And I liked the look of it, and it just made marks that were interesting.
What was the music you were listening to?
Joan, I'm a trading.
This is, I don't want this to come across as a, uh, a.
an insensitive question.
Be insensitive.
Because obviously, I wish Jamie O' were alive today.
Do you think you had to go through the grief to get somewhere, to get here?
You know, it's impossible to answer.
But I mean, I think for me that without it, I would have been very different.
It broke me in half.
And then actually those years were harder.
He wasn't the only one I lost.
So it was a series of them.
And of course, it's just like being profited.
Yeah.
And young as well.
Yeah, 18, 19, 20.
And so I think, I then also, what's strange about it is I think when those things happen,
in a way, gives you the confidence.
You just go, well, so what then?
What have you got to lose?
People go, oh, don't be an artist's nightmare.
You know, you'll never succeed that.
It's impossible.
or a bit risky or come on, mate, yeah, proper job.
But because of that, you think, no, just do what's in your heart
and listen to it because guess what?
We're all, none of us get out of your life, so by not try,
then what do you've got to lose?
Were you talking to anyone about how you were feeling?
Ah, such a good question.
No, I wasn't.
I didn't really know how to verbalise it in age 18 in those days.
People drank a lot.
So I think I just put it into ink and music and, you know, crying with a walkman on.
and then just carrying on.
It's a good question.
Because I know you speak very lovingly of your parents.
I do.
And I'm also aware that we're talking about a different generation.
Yeah.
Where prior to books like yours and podcasts like mine,
these sorts of conversations about emotion and vulnerability
were just not happening.
No.
But do you think your parents were worried about you?
That's a good question. I don't know. I remember saying to my dad, because they were the war generation, so they'd been through horrors. You know, they, mum lost her father on the Normandy beaches, my dad's horror. You know, they all went through. And so I suppose, you know, they just stoically carried on. But for me, I remember saying to my dad, I think, of the third friend had died. I said, is this normal?
It was on the phone
He said Charlie this is not
No I promise you that
And it was a lovely
It was hard
The way he said it was really heartfelt
But yeah
I think it may be me
I think I probably just did bottle things up
You've also said this thing
That I read an interview
About your mother
When she was getting you ready for school
Yeah
buttoning up your clothes
And saying something to you
Saying one word
Yes.
What would she say to you?
Well, it's more that she would, in fact, she was quite good at that.
Even in her last year, whenever I saw her, she'd say, well, hello, said them all.
But in those days, she would, she'd always say remember.
Always remember.
And if I was going to school, she said, you were here, you know, you're all right, you can come back.
You can start again.
I love that idea, all right of starting it.
It's a new day tomorrow.
Just remember we love you.
And actually nothing really else matters, I don't think.
Yes.
Ultimately, nothing really is any consequence, whether you succeed or don't,
except whether love is it really, I think.
Ultimately, isn't it?
Yes.
And there's so much in that single word, remember.
There's so much love and history and tenderness.
Yeah.
because we forget
the tendency
to, especially in times of panic,
I forget everything.
When I'm in a tight place
or things are a nightmare,
I do forget those things.
So important.
I'm sorry because I feel like
I'm just sort of bringing up
these catastrophic losses in your life.
But over the last few years
you lost your beloved mum
and your beloved Barney, your dog.
How do you remember them?
Is it a sort of practice that you...
It's a really good question.
Thank you.
Very good.
No wonder everyone loves your podcast.
Different ways.
Barney, because he'd never left my side,
I often sort of sense him.
And I actually,
Barney came to me because I had another dog
and good friends of mine had Barney.
And so we shared him really from 18 years ago.
And so it's lovely because I can talk to them about him.
He came to stay and then stayed for 18 years, whatever was.
And that's quite good to chat about his ways and crying.
And mum with my sister, we sent each other first.
photographs of them, doing funny things.
So I think, you know, processing with others really helps if you can.
And I think, for me, I think with mum, there was such a tenderness and a humor and a lightness.
And she really loved the drawings and she stuck them all over her walls and that you couldn't see the walls.
for the drawings.
And I love that.
Yes.
You know, and when she had the book, she wore out the cover with her fingers.
She would read like this.
And so the embossing the words were off.
I've still got the book.
There's nothing left.
And sometimes she would hold the book open and she would, with her fingers, run over the drawings
and to feel them.
And the only place I've ever seen that before was in,
a place called the Dragonfly Unit, which was a hospital for teenagers who are struggling mentally.
And I covered in lockdown, it was empty.
I covered the corridors and other rooms with the drawings.
And never met any of them.
But I hear from them indirectly.
And one lady who works has said there's a girl who's been here a year.
It's a miracle she's even still here.
But she runs her fingers just wondering where she runs.
her fingers over and they can barely see the drawing anymore on the wall because she's just
looks at it and likes to connect with it. And I think that's what mum was doing. Like when you feel
something like that, you like to, there's something comforting about it. So mom did that.
And I have that book and I look at it, I just, she, I walk past every day and I look at it and think of her.
Because I know she had dementia, which is how I wonder if there's a
also something about, there's something so profoundly beautiful about holding onto the words and the
stories, but ultimately by holding onto them, they disappear. But then having the physical
object of that book. It's a really interesting idea, this whole, the physicality of written
words and connecting with them physically. It's almost like if you, it's like sculpture, you want
to touch it or hold it or something, if you feel something.
But my sisters weren't she
lived next to my sister
and family
and so I went there every day to see them
and I often find my sister reading
the words to her
and I think I hear from a lot of people
who
who
have someone with dementia in the family
and sometimes I say
the book because of the drawing
the simplicity that they connect
through it
and there's something in it
and you ask me what it was
I don't know
really what it is.
And it doesn't work for everyone.
How could it?
But I'm glad it does for some.
Yes.
It's honest.
So, fading your driving test four times, you do pass it.
Do you drive now?
You know what?
The weird thing is, less and less, I like trains.
I love trains.
Do you?
Love a train journey.
Me too.
I'll always choose the train over a car.
Me too.
So this morning, just now, I came two hours sitting on a train.
You know, I bumped into someone I met on the train
and three weeks ago we had a good chat.
Don't like that.
I didn't mind it.
I was saying, I'm going to see you.
I said, oh, I love Elizabeth's day.
Oh, I love that.
I love that.
So, yeah, for me, they're quite stressed.
Cars, I don't know.
I don't know anymore.
Yeah.
Some people love them.
That's fine.
But, you know, trains.
Yes, I find cars just inimically terrified.
I'm constantly thinking about the things that could go wrong
and then I have to actively make myself imagine the positive outcome
that's going to happen if I'm at the wheel.
Now, yeah, yes.
Actually, it's the first time I've admitted that out loud
because I feel like there's something about being an adult
where you're just meant to be able to drive.
But it's actually terrifying.
You're in a metal box spinning along the road
with other metal boxes missing you by feet.
Yes.
What?
I know.
And they haven't all had the data acquisition of full failed tests.
Some of them are less good drivers.
Two story.
We finally got her.
Oh my God, he got her.
For years, a deranged man in Wichita, known as the poet, stalked Ruth Finley.
He sent her letters, gifts, and poems.
The Wichita police put everything they had into Ruth's case, but got nowhere.
The poet was always two steps in front of us, and we just didn't know why.
And the city was already living in fear,
under the watch of another monster who called himself BTK.
And he also had a thing for poetry.
Could we really have two different people?
But no one could have guessed how this would end.
That's one of those Hitchcock endings that we did not expect.
From Sony Music Entertainment and New Metric Media, this is the poet.
I'm Rachel Brown.
The poet is available now on The Binge.
Search for it wherever you get your podcast to start listening today.
subscribers to the binge can listen to all episodes all at once add free your second failure is i haven't achieved
conventional success so many people have asked me through life when i'm having kids why am i not married
yeah all the time why aren't you married why haven't you got kids and i don't come out with some erudite
clear answer i just go hmm i usually ask them a question back something why are you married why do you have
kids. Or just, you know, why don't you plant more trees? But you know, like it's something
that I have wanted to do, but I have never wanted to do it for the sake of it. And I feel like
I've helped lots of friends with their kids, you know. Well, I mean, beyond friends, I think
you've helped the world with their children in terms of encouraging,
Yeah, that's a very moving thought.
I do get a lot of packages of books that have been made by kids with the characters, but with their own words, and that breaks me up.
Because they're so honest, will I ever not be ugly, said them all.
You're beautiful, said, you know, all this stuff, you're going, oh.
Yeah, I mean, perhaps, if I may, your role in this.
lifetime your purpose was not to have children in order that you could parent in this way?
Yeah, maybe. I don't, I don't, I don't think about it too hard about why I just, I tend to just
play what's in front of me, if you know what I mean by that. Like life presents itself and
you just take each day and do your best. And, you just take each day and do your best. And,
I think for me, there could have been times that there weren't.
And that's fine.
And you are right.
I think maybe I wouldn't have had the time.
You know, because actually making those books and their journey to making them is not simple.
And you have to become pretty obsessive.
And, you know, I not see people for ages and these other writers, I'm sure you're not like that.
But for me, I did disappear.
And my main connections were with Instagram,
where I say, here's a drawing
and hear back from them.
That was really moving.
Yes, and that's very interesting
because social media comes in for so much
warranted criticism.
But one of the things that I have always valued about it
is that sense of community.
And often when you feel lonely or isolated,
if you put something on Instagram
and people see you for what you're putting out there,
it's incredibly profoundly connected.
The number of people who've put a comment on a post
and then there are 60 ensuing comments saying,
are you okay, where are you, do you want to meet for a cup to see?
You know, I'm sitting in a hotel in a hospital corridor.
My dad's had a heart to say,
and I've been sitting here for seven hours.
And then there will be a conversation that I'm only a small part of.
And that for me, where people are drawn to something
that they feel they can have some kind of belonging to is great.
I love that.
can I ask you why you think people feel they can ask you that question?
Because I think it's interesting.
Yeah.
Because we are so conditioned to accept and expect life to travel a certain path.
So many people feel emboldened to ask you why are you not married, why do you not have Georgia?
Yes, as if you made a terrible mistake or you somehow failed society.
Yeah.
Is it hurtful when people are people like that?
ask you or did it used to be?
It might have been.
I can't really remember,
but I find it quite funny as well
because there's so many other questions you could ask.
Yes.
But also, people look at me and they go,
well, he's quite scruffy and he's, he's, he's eccentric,
no wonder.
It's no surprise that he's, you know what, he doesn't even know,
he doesn't wear the same socks and,
but I have deep friends.
Yes.
Deep.
But I want to talk about friends.
I would die for.
Let's talk about friends.
Yeah, I think it's one of the most underrated loves.
We do spend a lot of time quite rightly so thinking about romantic love.
And maybe because I lost my best room very early on,
so I've always felt the depth of what they can be,
and you have them for life.
I think I remember when I realized that,
when that's the whole idea of someone of daring to say to someone,
this is how I feel who I am, what I'm going through, whatever.
through, whatever. This is a storm I'm really in, because we're all in storms most of time.
And for it to be met with, oh yeah, me too. That's incredible. Yeah. I'm so grateful for my
friend, and they tolerate me. I'm sure they're so grateful. I love them a lot, yeah.
For you too, this poet laureate of friendship, you clearly have such a gift.
for friendship. What do you think great friendship must entail? Are there sort of five qualities?
Oh my days. You're asking me to list five qualities. Well, I've thought a lot about this.
Go on. You tell me. I've written a book about friendship.
Have you? Yes. Why aren't you doing all the talking? You're asking me the question.
This is about you. Well, I think it's extremely individual. And I'm so pro.
having conversations like the one that we're having
because so many people don't talk about
what friendship means to them
and that can lead to misunderstanding.
So there'll be certain people
who want a daily phone call
as part of their friendship.
I'm not one of those people.
And I think it's really helpful
to work at the things that you value
and to have the conversation
with your friend about that
and see where you meet.
So the things that I value,
you hit on it there.
Generosity of spirit is my number one quality
in the recruitment.
because I want them, I want to feel that they're thinking the best of me in any given situation.
Yes.
Even if I am rubbish on the phone and we haven't seen each other for two months because life is hectic.
That when we do see each other, we can hit that relational depth quickly because there's no guilt associated with it.
That's my number one quality.
Generosity of spirit.
Generosity.
Just love that.
Yeah.
Curiosity.
That's just one of my favorite human characteristics.
Yeah, it's amazing, isn't that?
That's why you love cats.
Yes.
Among other reasons.
Yeah, you really have to have a cat character.
Okay.
Thank you.
Okay.
Anyway, do you agree with those qualities?
Yes, very much.
Okay, great. Great. There we go.
I think kindness, you know, I think kindness is a, yeah, the word is used a lot these days, but it's such a crucial
fast set to a friendship and I think
you know I remember meeting
someone, not meeting
them, my neighbor and one of my neighbors
in Suffolk and she said
to me, you know
when are you going to make another book
and I said I don't know really
this is two or three years ago
I always remember and she said
you know
I teach people, kids
sometimes who have come from really
tough backgrounds
and your book
gave them permission to be kind.
And I'll always remember that,
but for many, but for many ways,
not least the fact they needed permission.
Yes.
To be kind, as if it was something they shouldn't do
because it's not cool or it's weak or,
and kindness is such a strength.
In the same breath, you know, I did hear,
I'm banging around stories,
but I did hear once of a tiny act of kindness
shown by a teacher to a pupil
who had decided, she decided to not live anymore
and this was her last lesson.
And 15, 20 years old, she was back at the school.
He was retiring.
She had a child at the school.
And she said to him,
do you remember me?
And he said, and she reminded him who she was.
said you, I just want to say thank you because you did a tiny thing that was enough to keep me
here. You were kind for 10 seconds. And so I, you know, I've always thought that, you know,
kindness can be fleeting or huge and all these different ways of being so important. And I would
love to be kinder. I would love to, you know, we're all on a journey of, um, kind of others into
myself. That's a big journey. Oh, that's a huge one. Wow. Yes. Self compassion. I mean. And self-acceptance,
because that's really what we're talking about. Self-acceptance, then I think you can accept others
more easily anyway. So I think, you know, I think this whole journey is uncomfortable
of being human and beautiful and difficult. And I think, you know, kindness and love all these things
help us on that journey, but particularly, I think, for me at least, and I know others, that
to learn to speak, you know, I lose so many things and I lost my favorite mug yesterday.
I'm sorry.
Yeah, it's an ancient mug.
I love mugs.
Yeah, me too.
It's just beautiful mug.
I drunk together and I just was berating myself.
I was really, really laying into myself, what that you've done my, what?
You know, this is after I come back from.
from Ireland, and I was so cross with me, which is normal, but I just think I could have been
a bit kinder.
I relate to this very deeply, and I've had various therapists over the years, and one of the
things that they will say to me when I recount a similar episode is whose voice is that?
Oh, good question.
Whose voice is it for you?
It's not one particular voice, I don't think.
but it's an intolerant, impatient, critical voice.
Judgmental.
Oh, yeah.
Yeah.
It's interesting, isn't it?
It is.
When I'm asked that question, I always say it's my voice.
Do you think it is, though?
Yes.
I don't think it would be so much easier if I could hang it on the hook of an individual who was mean to me.
But I can't.
That doesn't feel honest.
Yeah, maybe you're right.
Maybe I'm wrong, you know.
No, I think you're right.
No, I think you're right.
No, I think it probably is me.
And no one in real life would be as unkind to you.
I wouldn't know that.
I don't think so.
Definitely no one I've spoken to about Charlie Maxey.
You are so beloved.
Truly.
And I think it's really important for my to say that and for you to hear it,
even if you don't feel it, the hearing of it is important.
I mean, I feel so grateful in my life.
Like if today was my last day,
I would feel nothing but gratitude
for everything
including the losses, pains, mistakes, failures, everything
and the love and my friends
and people are never, ever meet
who I felt or had messages from.
They're the heartbreaking one.
So I do hear it and I'm grateful.
But there's always a bit of me going,
but you don't really know me.
I know.
I know.
But that's what stops you from being insufferable.
So that's actually a character strength.
My cottage has piles of clothes in it and half-finished things.
I don't know.
But I love that.
Yes.
It's very human and it's very accessible.
Anyway, that would have been a beautiful note to end the entire interview on.
But we do have one more failure.
We have one more failure.
Okay.
Which is that you failed at being an artist for most of your life.
life.
Yeah.
If, and you wrote to me, and this is such an astute point because failure, we were talking
before recording about how it's such a diffuse, vague term for something very complicated
and nuance.
But you say if failure means making a living, you've failed at being an artist for most of your
life.
Being an artist is a strange idea anyway, because everybody is.
You know, we're all doing, making things in different ways, whether it's a pie or a love or
a shirt or making someone's day, you know.
That's artistry and itself.
So I don't know about all this artist word, but, but for me, you know, now, like when I go in my house, it's ramblers drawings.
And the ones in frames have all been exhibited and haven't sold.
So I am surrounded by work that hasn't sold.
And I used to see it as work that has sold.
But now I just see it as a really important part of the process of making, you want a journey
somewhere and you have to make these to get somewhere else.
It's what you have to do.
So like breathing to get to the door, you've got to breathe eight times, you know.
So it's the same idea that keep breathing, keep making mistakes, keep trying, you know,
and you get somewhere else, you move.
And for me now, making art is not about anything other than trying and enjoy.
enjoying it and being, not putting the pressure on yourself to sell, not putting the pressure
on yourself to achieve some, just enjoy it and be free to make the mistakes that you learn from.
And I think the fear of not coming up to standard you would like prevents us often from doing
anything at all. People say to me, often, I wish I could have, I just don't let myself,
because I can't bear to see what I'll do.
I say, well, just think you're five years old
because five-year-olds don't give a monkey.
So just have a bin and do them and put them in the bin.
And I guarantee the one you do after that
will be more pleasurable than this one.
And da-da-da-da.
And I think that's the journey of life
is to be in a house surrounded metaphorically
with all your half-fast attempts.
Brilliant.
Your noble failures.
Yeah, there you go. But I think that the process is an end in itself. I don't think we're all trying to get, now is it? There's nothing else. Now, right the second, where we all are now is it. And this is our process. We're now half-finished, messy, brilliant, vulnerable, awkward states is beautiful and it's enough. And we're always going, oh, well, tomorrow.
or I'll be the X, just be in it now
and you're spectacular.
I mean, I should say this to myself.
I'm saying it to me included.
And one day, as I always say,
you'll look back and realize how hard it really was,
but how well you did, I really think that.
Just everything.
That was just everything. Thank you so much.
Is it?
Yeah, I want to end.
When I do my research,
for these interviews.
I tend to note down particular quotes
that someone has said before that have meaning for me.
And generally it's sort of two or three.
With you, Charlie, I've just got pages.
And there's one in particular,
which I really spoke to me.
And I'd love to draw a store clothes by talking about it.
And it is, I don't think even the river
knows where it's going until it reaches the sea.
So it speaks so truthfully to what you've just said there that you have to be the river without questioning where you're ending up.
Do you feel that in this lifetime, in this human shell that you're inhabiting, that you are living your purpose?
Well, I mean, that's a good question, a hard question. I hope so.
I mean, purpose is such a central thing for all of us to have.
such as crucial to feel like we have purpose.
And I think having been very aware of my own failings,
and being as honest as I can about them,
if that has helped someone feel less of a failure,
then maybe we haven't failed.
For me, this idea, okay,
that if I can be in a little room,
making inky marks on paper somewhere and they go out into the world and they make someone
in Australia, in some in a town somewhere, they'll never go feel better about their day
and more hopeful and less alone and it gives them some kind of voice they didn't think anything like
that or they choose to stay when they were thinking about not
and that for me is that that is purpose isn't it charlie mackassee thank you so so much for your work
for who you are for what you are for coming on how to fail i feel the rivers of our joint
experience have been leading to this moment in some way i agree i think you're incredible and your
book's beautiful and vulnerable and so honest and so necessary and so human and funny and
keep saying and doing what you're doing is a very important thing.
Thank you.
Well, you have been the most perfectly imperfect guest.
Thank you.
Thank you for having me.
Thank you so much for listening and watching.
This episode has been brought to you by Dove Whole Body Deodorant.
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original podcast. Thank you so much for listening.
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