What started as a saying – a reminder to slow down, laugh louder, and hold on tighter to the people who matter, It has become the title of a book, and a rule to live life by. This collection of t-shirts and hoodies is more than merch – it’s a wearable nudge to live on your own terms, find humour in the chaos, and remember that every ordinary day is actually pretty extraordinary.
With every purchase, a donation will be made to Macmillan Cancer Support, helping to provide care and support for people living with cancer and their families. So when you pull on a hoodie or throw on a tee, you’re not just repping a slogan – you’re standing with the people who helped Garry and thousands of others through the hardest chapters of their story.
I’m Garry Wall, diagnosed Stage 4B Metastatic Lung Cancer on 11 September 2022 after a grim August of scans and silence. I was sat in a room with an oncologist, a haematologist, a Macmillan angel gripping a tissue box like a starter pistol, and that heavy, churchy quiet that makes your ribs ring. “Three months,” they suggested. The images lit up like bad Christmas lights—left lung, liver, peritoneum, spine, pelvis, lymph nodes—the cancer hitching a ride through my blood like it owned the Uber. I remember refusing the tissue because I’m stubborn, the CT dye burning warm, the radiographer going quiet, and my brain saying, clear as day:
I’m not ready yet.
Life after that isn’t violins; it’s hold music and porta-cabins, diesel fumes sneaking under the door, pharmacy maths and patch day, pizza misunderstandings with blokes who think “cash or card” is a riddle, and Tracey laughing while I try not to set my ring on fire with bleach. It’s riding the waves between hospital numbers and small, stupid joys—flags at half-mast, a frothy coffee with a rum top, a slow pony on a wet Welsh beach—choosing to live loudly, swear honestly, and wasting time wisely on the people I love while I’ve still got some to spend.
