My First Letter

Main Themes

• first letter
• process
• discipline
• patience
• risk
• public record

Letter

To the readers,

This is my first proper letter on the website, and in some ways it feels like the real beginning of what I am trying to build. The weekly summaries have been useful because they force me to record what happened, what I bought, what I sold, what moved, and what I learned. But a weekly review can sometimes become too focused on the account value. It can become too easy to say, “the portfolio went up,” or “the portfolio went down,” and then accidentally miss the more important point.

The more important point is what is happening underneath the numbers.

What am I learning?
Am I becoming more disciplined?
Am I making decisions for the right reasons?
Am I thinking like an owner, or am I just reacting to the colour of the screen?
Am I building a process that can last for years, or am I just trying to look clever for a week?

That is why I wanted to start writing letters as well as weekly reviews. The weekly reviews are the record. The letters are the reflection. I want friends, family, and anyone else who reads this to get something useful from it. I want these letters to be honest, factual, interesting, and, where possible, a little bit humorous. At the same time, I want this to be serious. I am not writing this because I think I have everything figured out. I am writing it because I want a public record of the process. I do not want to be someone who says face to face, “I know what I am doing,” and then has nothing to show for it. I would rather build a record over time that people can actually look at. Not just words. Evidence.

That is really why this website exists.

I want to be able to look back in a few years and see what I thought at different points in the market. I want to see what I believed, what I got right, what I got wrong, and how my thinking changed. More importantly, I want to be held accountable by my own words. It is much harder to pretend you had a plan if you wrote the plan down and then did something completely different. Before these last few months, I probably thought about investing too much like gambling. I did not fully understand the difference between trading the market and investing in the market. I thought that if you bought something and the price moved against you quickly, that was almost the same as being wrong. I now realise that is not necessarily true.

If I have a view that the economy, a company, an industry, or a theme is going to do well over time, then I need to give that idea a proper time frame. I need to put money behind the idea, size it sensibly, and then allow time to do its job. That is very different from trying to trade every short-term move. Over the long run, I think thoughtful investing has a much better chance of working than pretending I can guess every week’s price action.

The uncomfortable lesson is that even long-term investing is not calm every day. I thought the stock market would feel steadier than it does. It does not. Even with a small portfolio, prices move quickly. One week the account looks strong, the next week a winner gives back its gains, and suddenly the same portfolio feels completely different. The companies may not have changed. The price has.

That is one of the first proper lessons I have learned: price action can change much faster than your thesis.

Early on, when the portfolio first dropped below the starting value, I felt it physically. I did not like it at all. There was that feeling in my stomach that no investing book can properly prepare you for. The funny thing is, reading about volatility makes you feel very wise. Actually seeing your own account go down makes you feel like you should maybe take up pottery instead.But I did not panic. I turned off the screen, stopped checking it for a bit, and reminded myself that I was here for the long term. The account carried on moving around, but eventually it came back towards breakeven and then above it. That mattered emotionally, but it also taught me something. If I had panicked at the first drawdown, I would not have learned anything useful. I would have just reacted.

Weeks three and four were probably the toughest emotionally because the account was under pressure and the wider market felt nervous. Strangely, though, I find it easier to say “I am here for the long term” when the portfolio is going down than when it is going up. When it is down, I can almost convince myself I am being noble and disciplined, like some calm value investor sitting through a storm. When it is up, that is when the harder test starts, because suddenly I have to decide whether to let a winner run, take profit, or stop myself from becoming overconfident after one good move. In that sense, the difficult part is not only surviving red days. It is staying sensible on green ones too.

What helped me was remembering that the aim is not to win every day. The aim is to protect capital, make sensible decisions, and keep learning.

That phrase — protect capital — means much more to me now than it did at the start. At first, I thought it mainly meant “do not lose money.” Now I think it means something deeper. It means do not make careless decisions. Do not let excitement control position sizing. Do not force trades just because cash is available. Do not turn a long-term thesis into a short-term panic. Do not confuse a good story with a good investment. My focus is still to make money. I am not going to pretend otherwise. I am passionate about making money and building wealth. But I want to do it properly. I do not want to make money by accident and then mistake that for skill. I would rather make slower progress with a process I can repeat than get lucky once and start believing I am Warren Buffett with a Trading 212 login.

One of the biggest changes in my thinking has been the difference between a good result and a good decision.

A good result feels nice. A good decision matters more.

A profitable trade can still be bad process if the reasoning was weak. A losing trade can still be good process if the decision was sensible, the risk was understood, and the position was sized correctly. I still do not like losing money - I do not think anyone wakes up excited to be down — but I am starting to understand that the goal is not to avoid every red position. The goal is to avoid avoidable mistakes.

There is a difference.

ASML gave me one of my biggest confidence boosts. It was a strong company, connected to one of the most important long-term themes in the market: semiconductor infrastructure and AI. I sold it for a strong realised profit, and I still think that was a disciplined decision. I protected capital, locked in a gain, and created flexibility. At the same time, ASML also taught me that handling winners is not simple. Sometimes selling is sensible. Sometimes trimming may be better. Sometimes the right company deserves more time. I am happy taking profit when a position is up strongly, because I would rather protect a gain than watch it collapse back towards breakeven. But I also need to keep learning when a winner should be allowed to keep working.

Google was probably the decision I am most proud of so far. I sold it well, then waited for the price to come back towards the level I had already planned. I did not chase. I did not buy just because I felt left behind. I waited. When it came back towards my level, I acted.That may sound simple, but it is not. Patience is easy in theory and annoying in practice. Holding cash while other stocks move is uncomfortable. It feels like standing on the side of a football pitch watching everyone else play. But cash is not useless if it has a purpose. Cash gives optionality. It gives you the ability to act when prices come to you instead of chasing them when you are emotional.

For me, a sensible cash position is not a failure. It is one of the best hedges a portfolio can have. I currently think a cash level somewhere around 2.5% to 7.5% can make sense, depending on the market and the opportunities available. Too much cash can become opportunity cost, but too little cash can leave you unable to act. Week 16 reminded me of that clearly. After adding Pershing Square Holdings, the cash balance became lower than I would like, and rebuilding flexibility is now something I need to focus on again.

SpaceX has been another important lesson. I bought it because I believe in the company long term, not just because I thought it would immediately go up. At first, it worked extremely well and became the biggest winner in the portfolio. Then it pulled back sharply. That is exactly the kind of thing that reminds you not to confuse one good week with genius. It would have been nice to take some profit when it was up strongly. I am not going to pretend otherwise. Everyone loves saying “I am long term” after a stock doubles, but nobody complains when they accidentally sell the top. Still, I do not see the SpaceX pullback as a major mistake. I bought it because I wanted early exposure to what I think could be one of the most important companies in the world over the next decade and beyond. If that is the thesis, then I should not judge the whole decision from one week of price action.

That said, SpaceX also taught me that excitement needs rules. A company can be incredible and still be volatile. A company can change the world and still be overpriced in the short term. Being excited about a business does not give me permission to ignore position sizing.

Gold has taught me something different. Originally, I was not as keen on holding gold. I preferred the idea of keeping more cash, because cash gives immediate optionality. But I eventually accepted that gold could play a role as a hedge. Since then, gold has gone down, and I underestimated how quickly that could happen. The strange thing is that I am not really frustrated by gold being down. In fact, part of me is happy when it falls, because I still have long-term conviction in the role it can play and it gives me a chance to lower my average cost over time. Gold is not there to be exciting. Gold is not there to make me feel clever every Tuesday afternoon. Gold is there to help protect the portfolio if the world becomes more unstable, if currencies weaken, if inflation remains a problem, or if investors move away from risk assets.

I have learned not to expect a hedge to work perfectly every week. That was a big lesson. A hedge is not a magic umbrella that opens every time it rains. Sometimes it just sits there looking useless while you get wet. But if the long-term role still makes sense, then the short-term frustration does not automatically mean the thesis is broken.

Rheinmetall has probably tested my patience the most. It is down meaningfully, and at one point I considered whether I should cut part of the position if the loss got too large. I have now moved away from forcing that kind of rule. I do not want to sell a position just because the red number looks uncomfortable. If the business thesis breaks, that is different. If the company’s business model changes, if revenue deteriorates for a sustained period while competitors are doing well, or if the reason I bought it no longer makes sense, then I should reassess properly.

But I do not want to sell just to make myself feel better. That is not investing. That is emotional housekeeping.

Symbotic is another position that has made me think hard. I still believe in the robotics and automation thesis, and in some ways, I believe in Symbotic more than almost anything else in the portfolio. The company is trying to solve a real problem in warehouse automation, and the fact that it has major customer relationships gives me confidence that the technology is not just theoretical. But Symbotic is volatile. Averaging down only makes sense if it is deliberate. For me, averaging down feels rational when I am taking profits from winners and reallocating into a position where I still believe the thesis is intact. It would feel more emotional if I was simply depositing more money because I did not like seeing a loss. The line between conviction and stubbornness can be thin, and I need to keep watching that carefully.

That is probably one of my weaknesses as an investor: I like risk. I am drawn to big ideas, strong companies, and the possibility of large outcomes. I am naturally optimistic about the future. I can imagine what companies might become if everything goes right. That helps me see opportunity, but it can also become dangerous if it is not balanced by realism.

Thankfully, I do think I am also a realist. I can get excited, but I can also bring myself back down to earth. That balance is something I need to keep improving.

Another weakness I have noticed is that I can be too easily persuaded by people who sound like they know what they are talking about. If someone speaks confidently, it can make me question my own view too quickly. That is not a good habit. I should listen to smart people, but I should not outsource my thinking to them. My ideas are my ideas. Other people can challenge them, but they cannot be responsible for them.

That might be the biggest personal lesson so far: no one can prove the future for me.

No one in the world knows exactly what is going to happen. Not analysts, not commentators, not friends, not people on YouTube with dramatic thumbnails, and definitely not me. The best I can do is build a thesis, understand the risks, size the position properly, and then review the evidence as time passes.

I do not need to run around looking for people to confirm that my ideas are true. That is just insecurity dressed up as research. Real research should challenge me, not comfort me.

Reading has played a big part in this. The Intelligent Investor helped me understand discipline, value, and the danger of being pulled around by market emotion. The Most Important Thing made me think more seriously about risk, cycles, and contrarian thinking. The Dhandho Investor made me think about simple opportunities where the downside is controlled and the upside can still be meaningful. The Art of Spending Money and The Tipping Point affected me in a different way — they made me think more about behaviour, habits, compounding, and how small decisions can quietly become very large outcomes.

The Tipping Point probably changed my behaviour the most. It made me think about how small things compound until suddenly they matter. That applies to markets, but it also applies to discipline. One weekly review does not make me a good investor. One written trade reason does not make me disciplined. One patient decision does not prove anything. But repeated over time, these small habits can become a real process.

That is what I am trying to build.

I want this portfolio to become a detailed track record for myself. I want this website to become more than a journal of trades. Over time, I want it to represent how I think as an individual — not just about investing, but about business, risk, capital, ownership, and the different ventures I pursue. I want it to become a broader reputational asset, but only if it is built honestly.

If future business partners, investors, family, or friends read this website, I want them to see that I did what I said I was going to do. I want them to see that I have been actively building a process since I said I would. I want them to see ambition, but also discipline. I want them to see that I am passionate about making money, but not careless with it. I want them to see someone who is willing to think deeply, write honestly, and improve. I want to become a world-class investor. One of the best ever. That is a very big thing to say, and I know it sounds ambitious. Good. It should. I would rather say what I want clearly than pretend to be less ambitious because it feels safer.

But wanting to become world-class does not mean acting like I already am. It means building the habits that could, over a long enough period, move me in that direction. It means studying companies properly. It means understanding capital markets. It means learning accounting, valuation, business models, incentives, cycles, and human behaviour. It means admitting when I do not know something. It means not confusing confidence with competence.

Most importantly, it means being patient.

Patience is probably the biggest lesson so far. Not passive patience. Not sitting there doing nothing because I am scared. I mean active patience: having a plan, knowing the level I want, waiting for it, and not being persuaded away from my own thinking every time the market moves.

Discipline means having a plan and sticking to it even when I do not feel like it.
Patience means giving an idea enough time to play out.
Risk means understanding what happens if the idea in my head does not happen in real life.

Those three things - discipline, patience, and risk - are what I want to keep building around.

I am only a few months into this journey. There is a very long way to go. The portfolio has already been above the starting point, below it, back above it, and back below it again. That alone is a useful reminder. Short-term price action is not the whole story. I am not worried about every move up or down. I am much more concerned with whether I am becoming a better decision-maker.

If the portfolio beats inflation over a year while I improve my process, learn more about markets, and avoid major mistakes, I would consider that a successful investing year. Of course I want higher returns. But returns without process can disappear quickly. Process, if it is good, can compound.

This first letter is the start of a longer public record. I hope future letters can show that I did the things I said I would do. I hope they show better thinking, better discipline, better analysis, and better judgement. I also hope they are honest enough to admit when I am wrong.

Because I will be wrong. Everyone is. The goal is not to be right every time. The goal is to be thoughtful enough, disciplined enough, and honest enough that being wrong does not destroy the process.

For the next stage, my promise to myself is simple: keep protecting capital, keep writing down my reasoning, keep learning, keep holding myself accountable, and do not let short-term emotion interrupt a long-term plan.

This is not financial advice. It is a record of my own thinking, my own portfolio, and my own attempt to become a better investor.

The money matters. But the process matters more.

And if I can get both right over time, that is where things could become very interesting.

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