Wonderfuel Issue Number 7 – Welcome to Joynuary

Today has been labelled Blue Monday, apparently the most miserable morning on the calendar, that point where January starts to drag its feet and everything feels a little heavier than it should.

But I’m not convinced.

Because joy isn’t something you wait for until life feels lighter or more sorted. It’s something you notice in the middle of it all, something you nurture quietly, and something you build through the small moments that often pass us by.

So rather than leaning into the gloom, let’s gently push back.

Not with big gestures or forced positivity, but with a quieter kind of rebellion. Noticing the little wonder(mo)ments hiding in plain sight. A shared laugh. A warm coffee. That comforting feeling of being oddly understood.

That’s joy doing its thing.

Joyvolution isn’t just a word, it’s a way of moving through the world that starts on the inside and ripples outward, fuelled by joy and led by intention.

And if you’re reading this, you’re already part of it.

So while the world calls this Blue Monday, I’m choosing to rename it.

Joynuary feels far more fitting.

Welcome to the Joyvolution.

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// Quote of the week //

Sometimes feeling better doesn’t start with fixing everything.

It starts with noticing one small good thing.

A breath.

A smile.

A moment that doesn’t hurt.

Gratitude for the tiniest things has a funny way of lifting your head

just enough to keep you moving.

And on days like blue monday that’s more than enough.

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// The founder diary //

So, you’re telling me you’ve never taken anything in your life that wasn’t yours?

The most valuable thing I ever stole was a business card from my tutor’s wallet while I was at art college.

Back in 1995, Ian Vickers was our cool tutor in third year at Maidstone Art College, where I did my degree. He wasn’t a permanent lecturer. He was the real deal. A proper, real-world designer who came in once a week to help final-year students polish their projects.

We all idolised him.

Ian kept where he worked a closely guarded secret. He didn’t want to be inundated with students hounding him for work placements.

One morning, I was the first into the studio. Ian followed shortly after. He came over to my desk to say hello and casually placed his wallet and designer satchell down right next to me.

I noticed a business card peeking out.

I didn’t hesitate.

In a flash, it was gone.

Not stolen.

Borrowed.

Held for the right moment.

That moment came at the end of the summer, after I’d returned from working in Corsica. It was the start of a new academic year. Ian would be least expecting it.

I rang the Eureka! studio and asked to speak to Ian.

He was gobsmacked.

I came clean. Told him exactly how I’d found him. On account of my ingenuity (and perhaps my nerve), he invited me in to meet the owner of Eureka!

My folio was pulled apart. Ruthlessly. But my timing was perfect. They were flat out and needed help. Dropping off bromide adverts to newspapers and magazines. Pasting work onto boards for presentations.

Two of the most amazing weeks of my life.

Then I left.

I spent the next three months unsuccessfully looking for work experience and a proper job. Eventually, I caved and returned to my old saisonnaire role, working in a bar in the Austrian Tyrol and snowboarding every day.

On my return to the UK, the very next day, I called the Eureka! studio.

And heard the words I never expected to hear:

“We’re really pleased you got back in touch. We’d like to offer you a job.”

And just like that, my now 30-year career began. Doing the thing I love most and the thing I’m best at in this world.

Colouring in.

I don’t condone stealing.

But I didn’t steal Ian’s card.

I simply returned it to my future self.

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// The joyful brand – Ice Magic //

For me, Ice Magic is one of my oldest joyful brands. So old even the internet had only crappy low res pics available to pilfer.

Back in the day, when dinner was reliably meat and two veg and long before Munch Bunch yoghurts arrived on the scene, pudding meant ice cream.

My dad got his own personal Vienetta.

We got plain vanilla.

Then came Ice Magic.

Not only did the pack promise joy, the real delight was the ritual. Watching liquid chocolate pour over soft ice cream and harden into a crisp shell you could smash with a teaspoon felt like actual magic. A genuinely seminal childhood memory.

The product itself was legendary.

But the packaging? Even better.

That lid, shaped to mimic the cracked chocolate surface beneath, was miles ahead of its time. Smart, playful, and utterly unforgettable.

Proof that joy isn’t just in the product.

It’s in the moment you create around it.

And once you’ve felt that, you never forget it.

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// From the archives – Magic FM //

Back in 2005 whilst in residence at one of my favourite places I have ever worked, Turnbull Ripley, I created a suite of bespoke typographic invitations for the Sony Radio Music Awards that captured Magic’s new confidence and momentum.

Light, lyrical letterforms with subtle flourishes echoed music, movement and morning optimism bringing warmth, personality and celebration to every word.

The project was super fulfiling for me as it marked a return to my calligraphic roots.

The result was type with rhythm and soul.

Human. Musical. Alive.

Proof that when typography is tuned just right, it doesn’t just communicate.

It plays.

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