Ozzy's tireless resolve to go out with a bang at last show took its toll – but Sharon never left his side in final days
And friends tell me Sharon was by his side until the very end, when Ozzy passed away peacefully at their home in Buckinghamshire on Tuesday morning.
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By good fortune, their children had spent precious time with Ozzy in his final weeks - after coming to Birmingham to celebrate his triumphant final performance with Black Sabbath on July 5.
Friends say Sharon had gone to great lengths to adapt their home to Ozzy's needs prior to his passing - ensuring his beloved Bucks home was a place of peace and sanctuary for him.
It was there, they explain, that Ozzy underwent gruelling physiotherapy which helped him give the performance of a lifetime.
And it was there that Ozzy said his final farewell.
'Ozzy's family were with him to the end,' a friend says.
'For a man whose life was the definition of chaotic, his final days in this world were incredibly peaceful.
'Sharon barely left his side. Kelly, Jack and Aimee also spent time with him. It was a very special time.
'Ozzy and Sharon had marked their 63rd wedding anniversary the day before his show in Birmingham and when they returned home Ozzy sadly went downhill.
'He had been unwell with his Parkinson's and that huge final show took its toll.
'No one foresaw how quickly he passed away. But although it was a shock, there is gratitude that they could all be together.'
Another friend added: 'Ozzy was immensely proud of being able to put on that show and perform.
"To be up in front of his fans performing was what drove him.
Watch emotional moment Ozzy Osbourne speak about amazing life with Sharon in resurfaced moment from The Osbournes as rocker tragically dies
'He said it himself on stage, 'This is the best thing I have ever done.'
'Those words couldn't have been more true.'
I was lucky enough to be among the 40,000 fans - and the 5.8million who tuned in live - to watch Ozzy take his final bow.
Admittedly I was astonished at the form he was in.
Just seven months before Back To The Beginning, I was flown out to Cleveland, Ohio, to watch Ozzy being inducted into the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame for the second time.
It was clear to me then he was struggling, with Ozzy sadly unable to perform at the Rocket Mortgage Field House arena despite his best efforts.
We had been scheduled to meet backstage for a quick interview and to celebrate the incredible honour.
But I wasn't surprised, not upset, when I was told not long before we were due to meet that Ozzy would be unable to speak to me.
Seeing him on stage, clearly not feeling his best, was difficult to witness.
But Ozzy made light of the pain he was in, paying tribute to his wife Sharon and enjoying the incredible musical tributes, with Jack Black hailing him as 'the greatest frontman in rock n roll history.'
Speaking to the audience, Ozzy jokes: 'You know what, I can't believe I am here myself.'
Sharon, as ever, was by his side and backstage helped tend to his every need.
I was last with Sharon two years ago and we spoke at length, off the record, about Ozzy and how he was faring.
His health, which has been well reported on, was not the best and Sharon spoke candidly about her concerns for him.
She broke down as she told me he had been 'plagued medically' and touched my arm as she told me, 'I think, 'No more, please, God.'
Once the interview was finished we hugged and I told her she was an amazing woman.
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Sharon wiped away tears as we spoke about Ozzy.
It was clear she worried about him regularly and would move heaven and earth to keep him on this earth.
Her devotion to the man she married back in 1982 never faltered.
Sharon was steadfast in her support of Ozzy.
Yes he could be outrageous and outspoken, and I don't doubt he wasn't downright annoying at times, but Ozzy was the man Sharon loved with all of her heart.
Ozzy as he grew older paid her devotion back in spades and friends said the pair had spoken about how they would spend their final years together at their home in Buckinghamshire.
And it certainly didn't involved him putting his feet up.
'Ozzy was always like, 'This is not the f***ing end..I have got stuff to do,'' a friend tells me.
'He liked being busy and he liked projects.
'He had found chatting to a ghost writer about his last two decades for his book Last Rites therapeutic and fun and he was looking forward to promoting it.
'Ozzy was also talking about going back into the studio and recording new material.
'Retirement was never an option for him. He used to recall his dad John retiring after dedicating his life to 'the electric company' as he called it.
'Ozzy would say all his dad told the family about was doing some gardening.
'Well Ozzy said that he went out and dug up the garden for a few days and then dropped dead - just like that.
'Ozzy felt that as hard as his workload was, John kind of had that purpose of going to work to provide for his family and have a role - and when it was absent it kind of left him lost.
'Ozzy made it clear many many times that he did not want to have a path.
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'He never wanted to simply retire and stop making music or feeling the love from live audiences.'
Heading to Birmingham on July 5 to see Black Sabbath again, I spoke to the organisers of the event about Ozzy's health and how he was doing.
Remembering how he was back in October, I admitted I was concerned about how he would be able to cope with getting up on stage to perform.
Just minutes before he took to the stage, I messaged someone close to him who I knew had been backstage with Ozzy and his family all day and asked if he would be singing.
I talked to other journalists around him, and we remarked on whether Black Sabbath fans would be shocked by how frail he had become.
Seconds after he appeared through the floor of the stage at Villa Park, we were eating our words.
Ozzy was brimming with life and his speech, which had been more laboured when I saw him in Cleveland, was clearer than ever.
It was the most astonishing turnaround I have witnessed in a long time.
I know from those close to Ozzy he had worked tirelessly with a physiotherapist to prepare for the shows - which would not doubt have been painful and tiring.
But the effort he put in for his fans more than paid off.
His voice was remarkable given his health and he was in the highest of spirits, laughing as he blasted fans with a water cannon.
'It's so good to be on this f***ing stage,' Ozzy said during his first performance - which saw him giving the most emotional version of Mama, I'm Coming Home, that I've ever seen.
Ozzy continued: 'I've been laid up for six years. You have no idea how I feel. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.'
I got shivers as 40,000 people chanted his name, which left Ozzy looking close to tears.
As his set finished, he took a mere 25 minute break before returning with his Sabbath bandmates Tony Iommi, Bill Ward and Geezer Butler to play War Pigs, N.I.B., Iron Man and Paranoid.
Fireworks went off as the show finished and I left on an absolute high, blasting Sabbath songs in the car as I drove home.
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The following day I wrote a special edition of Bizarre dedication to Ozzy and his homecoming - which has gone down in history.
In the days that followed, those close to Ozzy sent me excited messages about what he was planning next.
One friend told me: 'That audience reaction was always his super power.
"He loved fans responding to him at Villa Park and for so many years even cheering him on in the street, simply for his fame as a reality star.
'Ozzy hated the thought of just withering away and stopping altogether.'
Yesterday afternoon when I first got the call about Ozzy's death, my initial reaction was shock.
How could the man I watched on stage looking so alive just over two weeks ago have passed away?
It was a few hours later that I got the call from his representative to say that it was true and that Ozzy had sadly passed away.
We agreed that the next time we met we would raise a toast to this brilliant man.
Over the coming days and weeks, Ozzy's legacy not only to music, but to charity, will become even more apparent.
This was a Birmingham born boy, who did far more than just good.
Ozzy was the pioneer of heavy metal and was one of the most famous men in the world.
But he never forgot where he came from - hence why the £140 million he raised from his Back To The Beginning concert will be distributed between Birmingham's Acorns Children's Hospice, Birmingham Children's Hospital and Cure Parkinson's.
There will never be another man, or musician, like him.
There is only one Ozzy Osbourne.
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The Independent
25 minutes ago
- The Independent
The Maccabees on reuniting: ‘There were years when it was like a stranger messaging'
I n a dank rehearsal room in New Cross, bathed in an eerie green light that clings to the walls like moss, The Maccabees are easing back into each other's orbit. A headline appearance at All Points East is still months away. Nearest me is their guitarist Felix White, dressed all in black. 'Any requests?' he asks me. Soon the air is thick with nostalgia. Guitars twitch and flicker. Drums roar. Then in comes the choirboy vocal, clear yet quivering, as if frontman Orlando Weeks is on the verge of an apology: 'Mum said no/ To Disneyland,' he sings. 'And Dad loves the Church. Hallelujah.' It's the first time I've heard 'Lego', from their 2007 debut album, since the south London band bowed out eight years ago. But here are all the early Maccabees hallmarks: staccato riffs, adolescent romance, tenderness wrapped inside tension. Back then, in the harried sprawl of mid-Noughties UK indie – a scene of skinny jeans, dirty dance floors and MySpace pages – they briefly seemed to be just another charming, successful young band, writing cool, funny songs about wave machines and toothpaste. Yet they were always headed somewhere else, evolving, their sound increasingly adventurous on their way to a Mercury Prize nomination, an Ivor Novello award, a No 1 record and a headline performance at Latitude. Then it stopped. Seemingly out of nowhere, in August 2016, the group announced they were to be no more, save for a series of farewell celebration shows at Alexandra Palace the following year. 'We are very proud to be able to go out on our own terms, at our creative peak,' a statement read. 'There have been no fallings out.' Fans were bereft. In the years since, details of the split have remained hazy: by all accounts, it was not so much a blow-up as a simmering of fractures and differences. The pieces didn't fit together any more. While Weeks told The Independent in 2020 that the band 'just ran out of steam', blaming the creative frustrations of working as a group, it's clear a cooling-off period was needed. 'With Orlando,' says Hugo White, a guitarist in the band like his older brother Felix, 'there were a few years we didn't speak. You'd send one text maybe in six months.' They had been together their entire adult lives. 'I was 16 when I started the band,' Hugo notes. 'I was 30 when we split up.' Keeping five people together at that age 'locked into a diary that's scheduled for the next year, all intertwined in [each other's] lives', is difficult, he says. 'And I think that kind of broke in a way.' At that point, the five of them all agree, the idea of ever getting the band back together seemed inconceivable. 'It felt final,' says Weeks, who has now released three excellent solo records. 'Extremely final,' Felix jumps in, amid laughter. 'We needed it to be like that in order to move on,' says Hugo. 'It couldn't linger around.' Felix White during The Maccabees' set at the 2009 Isle of Wight Festival (Getty) We're 10 minutes in, and the group dynamic of The Maccabees is already unmistakable – a familial rhythm of in-jokes, unspoken cues and roles that feel shaped over years. If Weeks is the reluctant frontman, softly spoken and meditative, Felix is the band's ebullient cheerleader. Brooding opposite him is Hugo, with a jaw as sharp as his humour, cracking a number of close-to-the-bone barbs about the breakup. Drummer Sam Doyle and bassist Rupert Jarvis are here, too, quieter, more enigmatic. Though the mood is celebratory, there's no doubt the split was a difficult pill to swallow. 'It was so weird because you've made such a commitment to each other from a young age,' Hugo later tells me. 'So the idea that someone wants to make music outside of that group, with other people – it's almost like a betrayal... Even though it isn't.' For Felix, the way it ended, just as The Maccabees had finally earned their place at indie's top table, was, by his own past admission, 'heartbreaking'. 'We were mid-thirties and there was a real sense of saying goodbye to a part of your life,' he told us last year. The Maccabees wasn't the only breakup Felix was going through. At the same time as those bittersweet Alexandra Palace shows, he was also parting from his girlfriend Florence Welch, of Florence + the Machine. There was so much change in the air, Felix says, that it was difficult to navigate. 'Lots of endings happening in lots of different versions of life.' But then change has always been reflected in The Maccabees' music. Just as they became more expansive sonically, with gauzy guitar textures and swirling atmospherics reminiscent of Arcade Fire, so their lyrics matured. Gone were the chewed-up Lego pieces, replaced by introspection and songs concerned with the vicissitudes of ageing. Enjoy unlimited access to 100 million ad-free songs and podcasts with Amazon Music Sign up now for a 30-day free trial. Terms apply. Try for free ADVERTISEMENT. If you sign up to this service we will earn commission. This revenue helps to fund journalism across The Independent. Enjoy unlimited access to 100 million ad-free songs and podcasts with Amazon Music Sign up now for a 30-day free trial. Terms apply. Try for free ADVERTISEMENT. If you sign up to this service we will earn commission. This revenue helps to fund journalism across The Independent. Orlando Weeks performs during the band's 2013 Isle of Wight set (Getty) On a personal level, growing up with The Maccabees, all of us more or less the same age, I've always felt a strange sense of ownership over them, as if they are my band, a soundtrack to my coming of age. I was 20, still flinging myself across sticky, student dance floors in torn Levi's, when a mutual friend played them to me just before the release of debut album Colour It In. Then, two years later, nursing a broken heart, I found myself near Felix in the crowd as Blur played the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury. 'I fell in love to your first album,' I told him. There were other encounters, too, running the gamut from cringe to extremely cringe. Backstage at the Isle of Wight Festival in 2011, introduced to Hugo by a PR, I careened into fanboy overdrive, explaining more than once that 'your band changed my life'. Professionally speaking, I couldn't be trusted to be objective, either: I spent years wearing down a late, great music editor who refused to let me write about them. Eventually, she caved, and I reviewed them at Brixton Academy, not knowing it would be one of their last shows. (Headline: 'Is it time The Maccabees headlined Glastonbury?') Of course, they're not just my band. Recently, at a stag do in the Scottish Highlands, I derived immeasurable joy from watching the groom-to-be insist on playing four vintage Maccabees songs back-to-back at 3am, those time-capsule choruses still a bottomless font of bonhomie. To me, in an era of swaggering, hyper-macho indie landfill, with bands such as Razorlight and The Rifles, their music always stood apart, shimmering with warmth and depth. Evidently, Danny Boyle thinks so too. For a pivotal scene in his film Steve Jobs , he turned to the sweeping, crepuscular tones of 'Grew Up at Midnight', lifted from the band's critically acclaimed 2012 record Given to the Wild. 'We thought that was going to make us f***ing massive in America,' says Felix. 'They used the whole song at the end and we were like, 'Oh my God, we're going to America, people…'' He pauses… 'F***ing nothing. If anything, we were smaller after the film came out.' The Maccabees at the NME Awards in 2016, shortly before their split (AFP/Getty) Be that as it may, there's no downplaying the magnitude of those farewell shows, which felt part celebration, part elegy. I was there and can attest to just how emotional they were. 'There was a real sense when those last Maccabee shows happened that everyone had been, was a particular age, and it became sort of symbolic for saying goodbye to a certain part of your life – sort of early thirties,' says Felix. 'That idea of real adulthood was upon everyone, that you're definitively ending a stage of your life – and it felt like it was inside all of the rooms when we played those shows. It felt like everyone was pouring their own collective sense of goodbye into it, whatever that might be – relationships, being young, people that couldn't be there, all that kind of stuff. So it felt very heavy.' For a while, it seemed that Felix would not look back as he set off on new paths. He launched Yala! Records, wrote the cricket-themed memoir It's Always Summer Somewhere and started a cricketing podcast called Tailenders with radio host Greg James and England's all-time leading wicket-taker Jimmy Anderson. But as time passed, he realised, 'you do get to a point where you're like, actually, life doesn't last forever. If we want to do this, it could be a really beautiful thing.' There was a recognition that it would likely feel that way for their fans, too, who had felt the poignancy of their parting, and had since perhaps been doing a lot of the things that the band had been doing, like starting families and spending more time at home. 'As a Maccabee through the ages, I think you can really hear that in the music: you can hear that we're 19, you can hear that we're 24 and so on. And the gigs used to feel like that, like when we were first playing, and there used to be people hanging from the ceiling and shoes flying everywhere and all that kind of thing. And then, as we got older, it changed into something more introspective.' As we got older, it changed into something more introspective Felix White Cut to Glastonbury this year and there The Maccabees are, headlining the Park Stage, with a comeback set that weaves all those elements together. Yes, there's introspection, but also that frenetic energy; if there'd been a ceiling, you can be sure people would have hung from it – perhaps without their shoes. 'We never thought we'd be playing these songs again to anybody,' Felix said to the crowd. So how come they are, I ask? The catalyst, Hugo says, was his wedding to the author and poet Laura Dockhill in lockdown. After hiring out a pub in Battersea, he invited Weeks on the condition, he jokes, that he would sing. 'And just for the after party,' Felix chimes in, laughing. 'It's not an open invite!' And so, for the first time since Alexandra Palace, all five of them were in the same room. Their friends Jack Peñate, Jamie T, Florence Welch and Adele all performed that night. Crucially, so, too, did The Maccabees. Reuniting, says Weeks, 'didn't feel forced, because after the end of something like The Maccabees, to coordinate a meeting felt sort of contrived. Then, suddenly, there was this event that was a very obviously uncomplicated reason to all be together.' After Covid, he explains, there were tentative conversations about a reunion. Slowly, the pieces aligned. The White brothers' new band 86TVs were forced to pause their plans after Stereophonics called back their drummer, Jamie Morrison, for a tour. 'So, suddenly, there was this fallow year for them,' Weeks continues, 'and I had finished my stuff with [his 2024 album] Loja. So it was just a natural hiatus there. If there hadn't been an All Points East that felt so good, then it might easily have just drifted and not happened. But it just felt very uncomplicated again.' The boys are back in town: The Maccabees at Glastonbury 2025 (Jill Furmanovsky) Certainly, their Glastonbury set had a natural ease and coherence. 'The thing that I was really noticing was that me, Land [Orlando] and Hugo all used to do this thing where we'd all move at the same time, like unintentionally choreographed,' says Felix, when I meet him and his brother again a few weeks after the festival. 'You'd do two steps forward, stand still, three steps back, and you feel everyone do it at the same time. Like, weird, telepathic, synchronised. And here we were doing it again.' Falling unconsciously into step with one another without even speaking, he says, was 'so weird... even beyond the playing, like it was in your body somewhere'. Beforehand, though, 'I was f***ing nervous,' says Felix. 'And the TV thing really does heighten the whole experience.' 'You can't really get a more high-pressure scenario,' agrees Hugo. They'd been calm in the days leading up to it, but that changed on the day, explains his brother. 'Land had this thing in his head where he was saying randomly, sporadically, with no context, how nervous he was out of 10. So you'd be having a chat, and he'd suddenly go 'seven', and then half an hour later, it'd be 'six', and then 'nine'.' Nerves aside, the band were thrilled with how it went. 'I didn't come down from it for days,' says Felix. The set was capped by an appearance from Welch, now back with Felix, for a rendition of her galloping 2008 hit 'Dog Days Are Over'. 'It was a rehash of what we did together at the wedding,' says Hugo. 'As soon as she sings in a room, it changes. She has that thing where she changes the atmosphere in the inner space, and it's really rare.' The whole process was very different from the classic rock cliché of 'putting the band back together' – rebuilding relationships took time. 'We'd meet up with our kids on the South Bank,' says Hugo. 'Stuff that is so far from how we would have spent every day. After a year of not speaking or whatever, you know, you go for a coffee and walk for an hour. Hugo White: 'Florence has that thing where she changes the atmosphere in the inner space, and it's really rare' (Getty) 'Obviously, it's different now,' he adds, 'because Land lives in Lisbon, but things are just back to how they were. And there were years where it was like a stranger messaging you.' Of course, there have been seismic shifts in the musical landscape since The Maccabees formed in 2004 over a love of The Clash and the BBC series Old Grey Whistle Test, which featured punchy, angular performances by the likes of Dr Feelgood and XTC ('You can see why it looked fun to play fast,' says Felix). These days, the industry is 'less focused on bands', says Hugo. 'People are creating these things on computers. Because it's cheaper, it's easier. It doesn't require the same effort as five individuals that connect in a certain way to be able to create something.' Jarvis agrees. 'It's so much more expensive to just be a new band. Back when we first started, we'd chuck in a fiver each to go and spend four hours rehearsing, [but] that doesn't get you anywhere nowadays,' he says. 'I feel very sorry for the new bands because of that, and there's a lot less new bands. You really notice that – there are fewer venues, fewer nights out, fewer things going on for bands to form a scene.' As the fashions of the scene that spawned The Maccabees in the indie sleaze era made a comeback, Weeks saw his past life through a new lens. 'We must be far enough away from that moment to look back at those pictures with a kind of giddiness,' he says. 'The colours and the weird asymmetrical haircuts and plimsoles and acrylic Perspex dangly little earrings and all of those things that, at the time, didn't feel nearly as cool as looking back at photos of The Clash. But we're far enough away from it now that it owns its identity.' The tribalism of the era, when you could tell which aisle of HMV a person would head to just by their hairstyle, holds a romantic pull for the band. 'There was still so much DIY-ness about it all,' says Weeks. 'There was more of a look, a cohesiveness of aesthetic.' Felix recalls being at a metal bar in Camden recently, 'and they've all got a look. That made me feel really nostalgic and jealous thinking, oh, I can't remember being in a place where everyone's got this code that makes them all sort of connected.' Felix White (far left): 'We spent two and a half years in full-on mania making 'Marks to Prove It'' (Jill Furmanovsky) Though the average fan's taste may seem more diverse than ever, Hugo wonders if something was lost in the transition to pick-and-mix fandom in the streaming era. 'You used to buy one album and listen to that until you got another album. [Nowadays] you don't have to listen to one album.' He stops himself and laughs. 'Do they even listen to an album? You just dart between songs like social media, scrolling through things.' The Maccabees seem conflicted about social media generally – especially its demands for self-promotion. 'When Marks to Prove It came out in 2015,' Felix recalls, 'we had a long conversation about whether we should even put on the Instagram that the album's out. We spent two and a half years in full-on mania making this record and it was generally like, is it naff to say the album is out today?' 'When you think what kids like the young artists now are expected to do, it's just, like, mind-blowing in comparison to how things worked for us,' Hugo says. 'We were so fortunate to be able to make stuff as a group of people and not be in this constantly competitive environment.' 'Just being not part of promotion,' Weeks marvels. 'Yeah, it was always someone else in control,' says Doyle. 'Deliver the artwork and they would promote it by getting posters up or whatever it was,' adds Hugo. I'd love to have seen Nick Drake's Instagram. Imagine him asking people to swipe up and share Felix White The sort of 'savviness' that self-promotion requires was not what set them on their way, notes Weeks, picking out current bands he likes – Divorce, Caroline, and Black Country, New Road – who have 'accidental alchemy' but also manage to be engaging on Instagram, without having to lay bare their 'private, inner workings'. 'I'd love to have seen Nick Drake's Instagram,' says Felix, laughing. 'Imagine him asking people to swipe up and share.' It's clear that as they prepare to play All Points East, headlining a bill that includes Irish sensation CMAT and indie stalwarts Bombay Bicycle Club, laughter and good vibes have returned to The Maccabees. 'Everyone's in a good headspace and connecting with each other, and that's allowed it to be stronger,' notes Hugo. Which raises the question: will there be more music from The Maccabees in their forties? 'Do you think that means we would make better music or worse music?' asks Felix. It'll be a different stage of life, for better or worse, I reply. 'It'll be slower,' laughs Hugo. 'There's a good feeling about it,' Felix says, with a wry smile. 'It's tempting…' The Maccabees headline All Points East on 24 August in Victoria Park; last tickets are available here . Reissues of their albums 'Colour It In' and 'Given To The Wild' are released on limited edition vinyl on 22 August. You can pre-order here
BBC News
25 minutes ago
- BBC News
East of England news quiz of the week 26 July
From an otter in an odd place to an inspiring Ed Sheeran, how much East of England news can you remember from the past seven days?
The Guardian
25 minutes ago
- The Guardian
Six great reads: Keir Starmer's human rights record, Jamie Lee Curtis on cosmetic surgery and the best of Euro 25
'Why is Labour's record to date on human rights – the one thing you might expect a Starmer-led government to be rock solid on – so mixed?' asks Daniel Trilling in this comprehensive long read. Due to Keir Starmer's background as a distinguished human rights lawyer, his supporters hoped that he would restore the UK's commitment to international law. Unfortunately, he is being blocked by a powerful man who has conflated protest with terrorism and called for musicians whose views he dislikes to be dropped from festival bills. That man is also named Keir Starmer. Over the past six months, Trilling has spoken to two dozen Labour insiders, former colleagues of the prime minister and leading human rights advocates in an attempt to pin down the shapeshifting PM. Read more 'At 66, I get to be a boss,' says Jamie Lee Curtis. That is very much the vibe of this interview, in which the actor shows up 'aggressively early' to the Zoom chat, opens up about her experience with addiction, and uses – and staunchly defends – the word 'genocide' to describe the impact that cosmetic surgery has had on a generation of women. Emma Brockes speaks to Curtis before the forthcoming sequel to Freaky Friday, which sees the actor reuniting with Lindsay Lohan in the mother-daughter body-swap comedy ('I felt tremendous maternal care for Lindsay after the first movie, and continued to feel that') – but their chat ends up becoming about so much more. Read more 'The lack of integration means I'm not the only remote worker feeling adrift. What happens when the shared spaces of your so-called community are sun-drenched cafes and boutique fitness studios? What does it mean to never volunteer, or spend time with an elderly person, to rarely take public transport, or read the local news?' It's easy to romanticise the life of a digital nomad: swapping the office for a beachside cafe; living in a flat far more spacious than the ones available back home; being eternally drenched in the southern European sun. But this thoughtful piece by Alex Holder, who moved from London to Lisbon, reveals the cracks in this fantasy. 'Maybe,' she wonders, 'it's time to move and make room for someone else.' Read more He had charisma. He had good content. He also had the support of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), an organisation whose membership has grown from 6,000 or so upon its founding in the 80s to a sizeable 80,000 today. Zohran Mamdani's record-setting success in New York's June mayoral primary was bolstered by 60,000 volunteers knocking on 1.6m doors across the city – a vast effort, Dharna Noor writes, made possible by New York's DSA field team. In this piece, Noor tracks the rise of an organisation that is increasingly shaping American politics – and considers whether it's ready for a face-off with the Democratic establishment. Read more From the match of the tournament and the best player to the most memorable goal, Guardian sports writers nominate their picks and personal highlights from Euro 2025, and share what they'd like to see next for women's football – 'Just more of everything!' Read more They say it takes a village, and parents today are ever increasingly turning to their own parents for help with childcare. One study estimates that 9 million British grandparents spend an average of eight hours a week helping to care for their grandchildren. Ellie Violet Bramley meets members of the 'grey army' and talks to them about the joys – and lows – of taking a hands-on role in their grandchildren's lives. Read more
