A letter I only send to a few customers.

Grace, Customer Care. There's nothing to click in most of this page, and if you stop reading halfway, nothing bad happens: your order is confirmed and on its way regardless. But every month, a handful of customers write me a sentence that deserves a proper answer, and since I can't know in advance who you are, I put the answer here.

At the end of this page there's also something I can only offer once, and only today; I'll get to it. The sentence those customers write is always some version of this: "I've managed this for fifteen years. I don't want to manage it anymore. What would it actually take to close the topic?"

Let me show you what "closed" looks like, from the letters of the people who got there.

A camping trip booked without a second thought. A drawer opened for batteries where the old tube still sits, unused, like a photo from another life. A twelve-hour drive planned around scenery instead of rest stops. Not "managing it well". Not "mostly fine". Gone from the list of things that get a vote in your life.

Now the uncomfortable part, and the reason this page is long.

Most people who feel what you'll feel at week five never get to "closed". Not because the products stop working. Because of something quieter, that has nothing to do with veins at all.

Year-long problems don't lose to 30-day efforts. They lose to systems that don't depend on your motivation in month four.

Here's what actually kills results at scale, and I watch it from this desk every week: the reorder that slips a week, then a month. The bad stretch that lands exactly when the shelf is empty. The slow, invisible drift back to the drawer that refills itself. Nobody DECIDES to go back to managing. They just never made the one decision that would have made going back impossible.

The products were never the missing piece. The calendar was.

The customers who closed the topic all removed the calendar from the equation. One decision, made once, that covers every month, every bad day and every "I'll reorder next week" for a full year, with a human being checking in so drift gets caught in days, not months.

For years we assembled that by hand for the few who asked. This year we finally built it properly.

Paul, 57. Fifteen years of managing, two serious attempts, both dead by month four for calendar reasons. His line, six months into the programme: "turns out I didn't need more discipline, I needed fewer decisions."

Elena, 61. Bought it "to stop thinking about it" after her sister's surgery scare. Her monthly check-in replies are one line long and my favourite thing in the inbox. The latest: "nothing to report. again."

It's called The Year of Service, and it's everything we make, aimed at one outcome.

Twelve months of Diosmin & Hesperidin. Twelve months of Soft Landing Fibre. Two complete Rescue Kits, one for home, one for the car or office. Compression socks. The Complete Vein Service Library, every edition. Shipments scheduled across the year so nothing sits and nothing runs out. A personal check-in email from me every month, you answer with one line, we adjust with you. And the priority line, hours, not days.

Priced piece by piece, the box runs well over £900, before counting a single chemist run it replaces. But the real number to weigh is the other one: what has managing this cost you across the last ten years, in money, in mornings, in trips shaped around loos? Against that, this page is small.

It carries a guarantee nothing else we sell has: 365 days. Live the system for a full year. If at any point you'd rather go back to managing, one email, and we refund the unused months. No returns, no forms, no justifying yourself. A maybe, for a whole year.

Two ways to leave this page.

Most people close it, and that's a fine outcome: the course you already ordered is excellent, and the earlier pages covered the next steps.

A few, the ones who wrote that sentence at the top, will recognise themselves and make the last decision they'll ever make about this.

Close the topic →

Not for me, I'll manage it as it comes.