I’ve been trying to do some table math, and I think, from the in-store shows, to the headline tour, to the various american hit and runs, we’ve probably met 50,000 of you this year. So, as we wrap things up, thanks to every one of you who’s bought tickets to shows, sung along to the songs, lost phones, voices and skin in mosh pits, written cryptic abuse on the van or just said hi in the street. Numbers on a screen have nothing on the throat-grabbing joy of walking out to 10,000 people in a tent, or 100 in a shop, or 50 crammed in by the bar of some old, sweaty pub. We’ve spent the last two years spreading ourselves as thin as our skin would stretch. It’s been punishing, joyful, at times almost unbearably bleak, but then for the moments of connection, when you feel it all start to work, perfect. It’s a cliche, but it really is the best job in the world. But, like any job, once in a while you need a long weekend. So, for the near-foreseeable we’ll be taking a bit of time out to sit in the darkness, see family, eat off plates with cutlery, keep our hands nice and clean, sleep in the same place for more than a night, and rent some distant bon-iver cabin to turn out the heart-breaking and chart-crushing album three the culture has been wailing out for. We will be back, with new music, new shows, and as always, the same old bullshit. But for now, thanks for everything, from your friends, Alex, Al, Ben, Rob, Oli and Henry