Have you got friends from every decade of your life?
On cycling no-handed round the block, the joys of the Bacardi Breezer and a compelling new psychological thriller
Forget the non-stop diatribes by politicians desperately seeking votes, the most thought-provoking speech I’ve heard recently was by a friend celebrating a big birthday.
As we sat down to dinner he gazed round the room and thanked us all for coming (no way would we have missed it!) Then he touchingly revealed that the guests around him included friends from every single decade of his life – from the pal he’d known at primary school to the people he’d met more recently (er, that would include me and my husband).
But on the train home I started panicking about what he’d said. I’ve moved house an alarming number of times so I’ve got friends all over the place but have I got them from every single decade?
I went to so many schools before the age of 10 that I can’t remember them all, let alone recall who my friends were. Me and my sister were always the new girls, the ones who didn’t know where to hang our PE bags or who to give our dinner money to so we stuck out like a sore thumb. We lived on an RAF estate in Buckinghamshire for a while and played outside for days on end so I suppose we must have had some friends. The trouble is that I can’t think of their names. My sole memories are of leaping into a mass of stinging nettles for a dare (a very bad idea) and coming a cropper when I tried to cycle round the block without holding the handlebars (an even worse idea).
Devoid of friends from primary school, I comforted myself by reading Elizabeth Day’s wise and empathetic book, Friendaholic: Confessions of a Friendship Addict. In it she reflects on the kindred spirits who have always been by her side and a few fair-weather friends who have fallen by the wayside. One close friend blanked her in the street, unfollowed her on social media and disappeared from her life without warning, leading her to conclude that it’s quality not quantity that counts. True friends, she says, are the people who are always there for you, no matter what.
Her words hit the nail on the head – and then I suddenly remembered that I have got a friend from my first decade. When I was five my dad was based at an RAF station near Thetford and we lived in Ely. I used to walk to school hand-in-hand with my friend Peggy Parsons, a sweet girl with dark hair and kind eyes who lived two doors down. We lost touch after we moved (no Facebook back then) but a couple of years ago Peggy got in touch out of the blue. She’d emigrated to Canada a long time ago but she was back in the UK and suggested we met up. So we did – and we hit it off all over again.
The following decades were easy. I still see pals from secondary school, university, my journalism training scheme, the papers I worked for and all the places (from Camberwell to Lancashire) where we lived after my children were born.
But how about the most recent decade? My son and daughter have left home and we’ve moved to the seaside – so have I managed to find new friends?
For a second I was worried that I’d turned into Billy No Mates but then I remembered that I’ve made some brilliant new friends in the last 10 years – a life-enhancing group I worked with at The Week, a fantastic showbiz journalist I met at a literary lunch and a brilliant novelist who’s become one of my dearest friends. So phew, I can hold my head up high. I’ve still got friends from every decade of my life.
This week I’ve been...
Catching the Bacardi Breezer. The Purbeck Breezer bus is one of the most scenic bus routes in the country. Dubbed the Bacardi Breezer by locals, it runs back and forth from Bournemouth to Swanage countless times a day. There’s an open top version in the summer and it’s so popular with pensioners that a few years ago the bus company had to remind them not to jostle other passengers in their rush to get the best seats. The most stunning part of the journey is after Sandbanks Ferry (yes, the bus goes on board the ferry), when the millionaire mansions of Sandbanks give way to Studland’s vast, windswept heathland. Only a few hundred metres of water separates the two but they’re so different that it could be a mighty ocean. Hang on to your hats – it’s a breathtaking ride.
Reading I Died on a Tuesday by Jane Corry. Former journalist Jane Corry has written a series of nail-biting psychological page-turners and her latest is no exception – part thriller and part family drama. The story focuses on three main characters – 18-year-old Janie, who’s about to leave home for a new life in London when a shocking accident changes everything, mega-famous rock star Robbie, who’s hiding a terrible secret, and widowed witness support officer Vanessa, who’s unravelling a tangle of lies from the past. I worked with Jane Corry on Woman’s Own many moons ago and she is absolutely brilliant at weaving multiple twists into her stories. This pacy tale kept me guessing right till the very end.
Thank you. Recently having found him via a Fb page I went to Bolton to meet up with a lad I met on my first day of nursery class. Hadn’t seen him for 60+ years as the school we attended asked him not to come back. We shared memories
Smashing topic that you could easily expand I
Into a chapter in your memoirs! I find it oddly painful to reflect on friendships dating feom childhood but subsequently forgotten