Ella Ward comes from a long line of irrepressibly charming raconteurs, letter-writers, storytellers and people who 'quite like giving toasts at parties'. And so when, a few years ago, Ella was 36 years old, with a husband and a young child, and was told that she had a rare cancer and might die, she decided that death wasn't going to stand in the way of her mothering her child. As Ella's treatment for her cancer began, she started writing letters to her daughter. To tell her about life, love, death, the importance of cotton knickers and – above all – her family. The kind of people who weren't dissuaded by little things like cancer. Or war. Or loss. Or a pandemic. This is a story of what we inherit, and how we become ourselves. This is the story of a family – a glorious, funny, exotic and ramshackle family – but it's really a story about how your attitude to life can shape your life. It's about life, death, work, love and the whole damn thing. Jaunty, brave, moving and immensely appealing, this is a gloriously endearing inspirational memoir in the tradition of Tuesdays with Morrie and The Last Lecture – although with slightly more dry martinis.