Monday 21.9.09

What a difference a day makes. 24 little hours.....

I felt a lot better by the end of the day. Slept in a bit, then had a read of the on-line information that the OU had sent me for my new course. This was a revelation. Lots of complex information layered up in links on a computer screen. Initially bewildering, but it began to resolve itself fairly quickly. I did have a bit of a panic at the hour mark, but after a cup of tea, I found the page with a neat timetable saying what to do in which week. Instant reassurance. I can usually follow instructions, even at my worst. Therefore, I think I can probably do this. If, and it's a big one, if I don't get bored. I do have a bit of a history of getting bored and giving up. The OU record of partial achievement proves it.

I cheered up more when S and I had an MSN chat. She was all lovely and up-beat and it was a real pleasure talking about my fear of cows and her love of goats, and snoring and men and jacket potato skins. MSN is strictly for talking rubbish, that's for sure.

After that, I did the bravest thing and opened the big OU parcel. Didn't get too far with this, but at least I know it's complete. The books are more reassuring and less panic worthy than the internet. I'm almost sorry that tomorrow, I'm going to Cambridge with Nick for a work jolly that we are paying for. Only almost though - there's every chance we'll have a lovely day.

Monday 7.9.09

Today's achievement, and oh boy, what an achievement it is, I've written an email to get a reference from a former boss. I've agonised over it for weeks, the thought of it makes me sick, it's brought back all sorts of horrible memories. Thinking about it has confirmed that I'm still angry, embarrassed and have all sorts of issues. There is a part of me that would rather be sending this man a dog turd than a request for a favour. And yet......I do think he's best placed, and, because he is when all's said and done, a forgiving man of some integrity, he will do it well. I just need to get over feeling debased by it. I hate asking anyone for anything, but I see no way around it, it has to be done.

I can't imagine that many people would understand this, but today, I had a lovely surprise visit from someone who does. H spins the coin tomorrow. She will be having one of those days that may make or break the future. A day to look back on with satisfaction or despair. She will have some influence over it, but not much. It's been a year in coming, but will be over within an hour or so. To outward appearances, she's together and cool about it. Absolutely prepared. I admire her courage, I think I would have run from it all, but she is, in spite of horrendous setbacks, standing always moving forwards. She helped me finish the email about the reference insisting on my doing what I didn't want to do and softening it up with a bit of personal stuff. Apparently starting 'Dear Fucking Wanker' wasn't a good start. Who knew?

Picture above from Skins. I've been enjoying the back catalogue.

Monday 20.7.09

H is off school for the summer holidays. It is a sobering thought that this may be her last summer holiday as a schoolgirl. she has one compulsory school year to go. We had a nice morning sitting around in pj's laughing at TV programmes chosen by H at random. She also showed an interest in what I was writing, which took me by surprise.

I spent much of the day writing a proper synopsis of the book as I had promised that I would send my mum a bit from it. I was a bit nervous about that as I'm inclined to feel judged and be found wanting. I assume that she certainly won't admire me for writing a romance. There's nothing to be done though. If I finish it and publish it (I'm dreaming, I know) then she'll see it anyway. I wish I could write like Ernest Hemingway but I can't.

I got it all emailed off within a whisper of my friend H turning up. Just as well that she was, as always, fashionably late. We went to see Bruno at the cinema. She was a great choice of companion, and we cackled like fools through the extraordinary language, the long pauses, and the behaviour of the American right. It is a complex thing, not to everyon's taste, I think. The plot feels a bit weak in the middle, and some of it is gratuitous. I do think it makes a point about discrimination, norms of behaviour, and what is acceptable and what is ridiculous. I just wish the Bruno character was a little more real, a little softer some of the time. Once that happened, the ending was a bit magic. With all of that, I loved it, and want to see it again.

After that, we went to Nandos to see where the fashionable people go. In spite of lots of medication, H was very lively. We had along talk about how to know illness from wellness, drawing no conclusion. I felt, as I always have, free and accepted with H. These days, I also feel protective of her, and anxious for the future. She is optimistic though and we made a bet that she would still be well six months from now. I hope to be giving her the champagne when the time comes. On the way back, a man was being sick outside of a pub. I was about to make a sarcastic comment about the classiness of Coventry when H walked over to him, crouched down, and gave him tissues from her bag. As I once told her, she is the kindest and the cleverest person I will probably ever know. When she later told me a story about some fool complaining she hadn't worn makeup for a foolish horsey event, and I looked at her face, carefully and unnecessarily made-up as a result, I wanted to hug her. We are neither of us the same women we were twenty years ago, but, like old couples on park benches, we have each-other.

Friday 27.6.09

First blog for ages. Loads has happened and a quickie catch up is to come. I must get into better habits and blog on days when there is something to say, as opposed to blogging on days when virtually nothing happens.

Billy Bragg at Wolverhampton was last Thursday, he was ace as usual. Not so the Wulfrun with its heavy security and door policy more suited to an all-standing Oasis audience than a sat-at-jazz-show tables Bragg audience. Billy played a much refreshed set with lots of interesting re-writes, predictably heavy on the political mix. I was a bit teary for StSwithans day. There was a nice moment when I turned to see Grant Showbiz singing along to I Keep Faith from the mixing desk. Thankfully H enjoyed most of it, I recognise its a challenging gig for a non-fan. Also it was fab that she is feeling good. Also, overheard the strangest ever comment at a Bragg gig, woman in lacy t-shirt on phone: "Last time I was here it was for Battle of the Bands"

I went to the open day at Coventry University on Saturday. It was all easier than I had feared, I got a lot out of it, not least a little more confidence that I can present myself to strangers without being too too much of an ass. I think I may even have decided what I want to do for the next four years. Wow, can't believe I just wrote that. Go figure.

This eek, I have been in Cornwall to help Nan get her hearing aids fitted. This went extremely well and she has confounded my expectations by taking to the things brilliantly. It made a miraculous difference right away. The NHS is a fabulous thing. Two good hearing aids made for a 98 year old, prescribed within 8 weeks, no fuss, and no charge, not even for the batteries. The weather was fantastic. Darcy and I spent an evening at Swanpool Beach watching the sunset. Darcy went flirting while I got some good writing done. I also squeezed in two visits to my lovely in-laws. Best of all, I got to see my friend S again. We had a lovely time talking grown-up stuff in just the same way we used to talk about kid stuff. She showed me around Looe, which is a great seaside harbour & beach I had all but forgotten. Darcy rolled about a horribly white dead eel like thing that was bigger than him. thankfully he wasn't unbearably smelly. I got home to Coventry at midnight to find that Nick had waited up for me. He's pretty amazing.

Today, I have been tired and wheezy. Went out to get buffet stuff for Nina's party and whined at Nick and Nina to clean up, genuinely felt too ill to do it myself. hopefully I will feel better tomorrow. I got up this morning to hear that Michael Jackson has died. I don't feel much about this, was never a fan. His music reminds me of myself as a teenager doing homework to the radio, but that's all. There is a huge outpouring of affection and grief. Maybe I'm a bit of a cold fish as I've never been affected by the death of any public figure in this way. I was sadder today to find out that Swells had also died. I liked his spitting ranting style and thought of him in an admired older cousin kind of way.

Ah well, those sausage rolls won't cook themselves....

Wednesday 10.6.09

An eerily productive day today, considering I got very little done. A contradiction for certain, but true. Grey matter firing up nicely.

I was up in good time today but took the computer back to bed thinking I would get some writing done. I didn't, but read some interesting stuff, including a lot more for Richard Herring's blog, Warming Up. He has kept it up every day since 2003 which is an enviable achievement. On top of that, a lot of it is a good read. I'm up to November 2006. http://www.richardherring.com/warmingup/

An hour or so of my afternoon was taken up on Facebook with my friends S and E riffing tea and cake jokes off each other. I think we made up a lot of good stuff, shame it gets lost in the ether. Will it work reprinted here?
S: "I tried to commit suicide by sticking my head in the oven but there was cake in it."
D: "Was it Death by Chocolate?"
or this?
S: “My therapist told me the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start. So far today, I have finished 2 bags of M&M's and a chocolate cake. I feel better already.”
D: "Shit, I was done, mine just told me to have a milky drink before bed. He suggested he come over to administer it, but I couldn't afford the fees."
I think you had to be there. We had a good time though.

I had run out of teabags. That never happens. Tea is very, very important to me, and I felt strange without it. Like when I used to leave the baby with someone. Something big was missing, except it wasn't big, just some dried leaves in a paper pouch that can be soaked in water then thrown away. I had a very brief thought that I wouldn't go and get more, just as an experiment to see what happened. I've temporarily given up several foodstuffs over my lifetime: meat, butter on bread, junk food, chocolate, cake, pastry, milk in tea. Never tea itself though. As I was thinking this, I was drinking a cup of skimmed milk. Why am I always so fat? I drink skimmed milk for goodness sake. Surely the French Fancies are not betraying me. Only 105 calories each they tell me. That's for one serving, a box of eight surely. It was the shortest giving up of a foodstuff on record, twenty seconds. I went out for teabags. There was never any doubt.

Later that afternoon, I sat in McDonalds with my notebook and my first cup of the tea of the day. I couldn't write anything, but was feeling observant. There was a man with a small child, about a year old. I watched him put her safe in a high chair. He left his keys and credit card on the table and disappeared. Seconds later, he was back with a balloon that he tied to her dress. She pulled on the string a few times. He shared his fries with her, picked up her hat twice when she had looked up at the balloon and it had fallen from the back of her head. The two were engaged with each other but absolutely silent. It was like an exercise in non-verbal communication, quite beautiful.

In a communications contrast, there was a shouting, masculine, midlands accented voice. With the tones that an adult will only use towards a child. "You're so disgusting, you're the only one in here doing it, STOP DOING THAT. You will be taken out YOU WILL BE", a reverberating slap, shrill screaming. It was enough to quieten the place down.

Went to B&Q to get a loo seat. Not much has changed, and I remembered the aisle numbers, go me. Nick was great and fixed it on as soon as he got home. I also bought a big load of bin bags as I aim to throw out some old clothes tomorrow, feeling a bit inspired since Nina and I did all the good work yesterday. Tomorrow I might feel different though. It's time to get on with stuff. That's for certain.

Tuesday 9.6.09

Feeling 100% better today. Nina came home earlier than expected, and although she was feeling a bit cross about working patterns, I was glad of her help to get the house sorted. She was up-beat and pleasant about it. We did a better job than I would have done on my own, and in less time too. I made the mistake of spraying febreze though. I genuinely prefer the smell of dog, and it set my asthma off. I never learn.

All of the scrubbing was in honour of H's visit. Nina and I went up to the supermarket for bread and milk, but mostly to get posh biscuits. Nina asked why H's visit merited the biscuits. That's a difficult one. I don't say I need an excuse but sweet stuff, but nice biscuits is largely about being middle class. I got the aspirational 'The Best' range of ganache filled Belgian biscuits. Yummy and showy offy. I knew H would like them, and that she would laugh at my pretentious but delicious purchase. H and I had a nice time, although I got a bit too emotional thinking about the first time she became ill, and made a bit too grand an apology about not being as helpful as I should have been. It was as though I had been drinking, I made a right tit of myself. I had been drinking, but only tea. Anyway, she took it in the spirit I intended and I hope it doesn't put awkwardness between us in the future as we are maybe going to see Billy Bragg.

I know you won't think me such a tit if I tell you that strawberry French Fancies are back in the shops. The special summer edition ones, all pink. I am not embarrassed to say I bought two boxes. Life is sweet.

Thursday 28.5.09

Went to see H today. We tried to work out how long it had been since we had seen each other, two years at least. She is the kindest and most intelligent person I will ever know. I'm complicated, she's complicated and so, naturally, our friendship is complicated. Even with the gap of two years, there wasn't a seconds need for catching up. We took up where we left off. I found myself telling her things that I scarcely let my unconscious tell my consciousness. Mostly, we giggled over the same things. There was pain too, because some things just can't be expressed. I think its a kind of love. A kind of love that straight women have for each other. And so, I so so wish her well.

Got home with a headache from sitting in the sun. Summer is here for the moment but I'm not much good at appreciating it, I always forget that I need a hat until I'm suffering. Good job I live in Coventry and not Canberra. Nina very kindly brought me a sandwich, tea and paracetamol in bed. Sometimes, kids can be a good thing to have.

Wednesday 27.5.09

One of my discoveries of the year is Spotify. Like a lot of things on the internet that I enjoy, it combines being useful with being time-wasting in just the right measure. I spent much of today listening to The Smiths and Morrissey's back catalogues, playing about looking up the lyrics, and generally having a mini-fest of nostalgia for the late 1980's and early 1990's.

An awful lot of stuff has been written about Moz's lyrics, so much that to some extent, I regret looking them up. They don't make me like their creator very much, for the most part. When I first listened to these songs, pre internet, with my best friend Julie, I made up my own interpretations (and even my own words). The songs were solace to me in lonely times when I was a student in Leeds, and bizarrely, I always found them uplifting. Julie would come over on condition that I would light the three bar fire, we would drink cheap red wine which took the skin off our teeth, and on a bad (maybe good) day, we would sing and dance along to This Charming Man, eventually falling into a stupor to Late Night Maudlin Street. Two tipsy girls, a single bed....and no sex of course, unless you count the whispered secrets about boys.

Nina is also a Smiths fan, so at the weekend, we are going to see Morrissey in London. Sadly, even though I am excited about going, I know that his voice can never have the resonance that it did in my cold, scruffy Leeds bedsit. Listening to the album Viva Hate reminded me of how good a friend Julie was, and of how important all of my college friends were to me. We were important to each-other, a disparate group marooned by our parents in an unfamiliar northern town, we were family for a while. A few of my younger friends (facebook contacts) are graduating this year with emotions that I recognise. What music will remind them of their friendships twenty years later?

I wish I could get back in touch with Julie, but she hasn't turned up on Friends Reunited or Facebook, and so is lost to me. Tomorrow, I'm off to see H, best friend of my 20's and beyond. Music best associated? That would be The Spice Girls. I can't believe that I let these great friends go. Glad I kept some- just some- of their music.

Wednesday 14.5.09

Today was one of those rare days that goes just so perfectly. It is impossible to communicate perfection, and in writing, any attempt comes across as a bit tedious. All the best stories are tragedies (with a happy ending sometimes),and the devil has the best tunes. I'm going to have a try though because a day like today is rare and precious so that will have to be the tragic part. Unless....

It wasn't a perfect start. Nan didn't have much food in, so I stopped on the A30 at Blackwater to get 11am ,breakfast at a coffee place. One of those American chains, I don't recall which one. I rarely go into these places, but I notice that they are popular. What is it that people like about them? Is it the dark wood furniture, the brusque service, maybe the wooden stirrers, the grubby flasks of milk? I don't drink coffee so I had a hot chocolate with whipped cream on top and a breakfast panini. Nearly £6 bought me a tough bit of bread, a gold leaf portion of bacon, a mouthful of tinned mushroom all at one end of the bread, and some additional but unidentifiable filling. Warm, but not warm enough to be a hot tasty treat, more a kind of punishment for being hungry.

Darcy and I were on our way to Liskeard to see S, a friend from pre puberty to post virginity, rediscovered thanks to Facebook. We ground up the dual carriageway for an hour, then a bit more thought the wooded stretch of the A38, past the queue for Trago Mills, one of the key shopping experiences of my youth. I had in my mind that if it went badly, I could make the excuse that I needed to get back to Nan's, S could say she needed to fetch her children. I also got a bit of confidence that after 20 years of no contact there wasn't anything to loose. In fact, a lot of confidence came from feeling that our Facebook contact had gone well. Liskeard isn't a town I know well, its a place people drive past on the way to Plymouth, non-touristy Cornwall, a local place for local people. The shops are unreconstructed market town, could be quaint, but aren't as most are looking a little neglected. Lots of small businesses that look like they're struggling to hang on. The hair of the people was lank in the drizzle.

Seeing S was meant to go well. I was bang on time in spite of not knowing how long it would take to find her place. She seemed entirely unchanged, just as I had remembered her. I got, and hope that she got, the instant comfort of being with a friend, known and easy. I am shallow enough to be glad when someone drinks tea, perhaps that was the key icebreaker if one were needed. I was fun to see the habits and hobbies that she held on to (cigarettes, the flute, cooking), and the self that she has kept (slim ankles, her manner of speaking, thinking three things at once) and to watch as small changes occurred to me. Her voice seemed a little deeper, she was softer about people, no longer hooked on makeup and big hair. Her kids are fabulous, all such individuals. I had met only her eldest, when he was a baby. He turns 21 this weekend, her other son 18. Her little ones did like the little pink gifts. I got the best gift of all, coffee walnut cake, just like her mum used to make, and I used to eat, at her house after school. Best cake I ever tasted.

We had the best time, chatting and remembering, took the kids to the park, got Chinese food, did the kids homework. She played flute while her children sang, such fun, such a gift. I stayed for hours, lost track of time, didn't leave 'till 9. Grinned all the way home.

Tuesday 12.5.09

Spent a ridiculous morning procrastinating, this time about making the journey to Cornwall. This was in spite of feeling quite positive about this visit. I'm always the same though, the clothes are always still in the dryer, there's always a couple of chores left to be done, I never have petrol, or cash, or a fully charged anything. I often get in the car and ask myself why? There's no obvious answer. One day, I'll have everything prepared and see how it feels. Also one day, I'll swim the Channel, naked, with a dolphin called Simon. Oh yes.

Sharing the front seat with Darcy was my handbag, and scrunched in the supermarket polythene bag within (no wrapping paper) were presents. I'm due to go see my old school friend S tomorrow. She has four children, two grown up sons, and two little daughters. I bought her a box of french fancies as a sort of joke prezzie given my very public fancie obsession of the last week. It was a bit more tricky choosing something for the kids. I'm haunted by the memory of being invited to a work-friend's house for her New Years Eve party. I took a bunch of flowers and a bottle of ironic pink sparkling wine. I had no inkling that it wasn't appropriate. She couldn't understand why anyone would give her flowers and mistook the cheap bottle of wine for champagne. That night, I got drunk with her on pint sized cocktails of lambrini, wkd, vodka and unidentified alcohol (white lightning may have been involved). That time, my gifts had been embarrassingly over the top. How will I do with the necklaces (butterfly and ballerina) and hair grips (pink, selection of)? My nerves focused on to the trinkets, so I'm confident about the visit itself. Strange how my mind works.

Got in to Nan's at teatime. Mum has bought her a massive new flat screen TV. It is perched oddly on top of a waist height tray table. Nan says it is too bright for her to watch. The bedding that I was to use was in the washing machine, dirty. There was plenty of tea and cake. That's Squire for you, nothing and no one changes. Least of all me.

Wednesday 6.5.09

Feeling up-beat today, so firmed up plans to go to Cornwall and while I'm there, see two old schoolfriends. It should be an interesting visit as lots is going on for my brother R as well. All I needs is some good weather and Darcy & I will be in our natural element. I want to get out to the seaside at sunset, both because this would be nice, and also for writing purposes. As I stood in the kitchen cooking jacket potatoes, I started to get nervous, but I have some confidence that it will go well, so long as I can stop myself from saying anything dreadful. Unfortunately, I always have the potential for that, but so far so good. I spent a fair bit of this afternoon laughing on Facebook with S over the 'french fancies fetish' (her most excellent alliteration). Good vibes for good times.

I am reading a new book, Time For Bed by David Baddiel. An insomniac reading about insomnia. The writing is patchy, some great paragraphs infilled with stuff that's much less certain. It was his first novel though, so I am feeling forgiving of it. Amazon also sent me a Stewart Lee Stand-Up Comedian DVD. I loved the excerpts I saw on Youtube but couldn't settle to watch it today. I was settled enough by teatime to watch The Apprentice, which is becoming fantastic. Each year's reality TV shows come around, I get myself involved in them, then they are gone, and I forget them. A poor use of time, apart from the bonding time they give me with Nina, and so, a good use of all to those hours.

Darcy had another walk through the woods next to Hearsall Common. It was the way a broad-leaf wood is meant to be; canopy of freshly grown sunlit foliage, squirrels sitting on drifts of dry fallen leaves then running up tree trunks, the song of blackbirds and the sound of smaller creatures in the undergrowth juxtaposed with of the chimes of an ice-cream van. The background grumble of traffic didn't seem to matter. I took some pictures, but they don't do the scene justice, especially the bluebells which were numerous enough to spread their scent across the paths, making me think of Yardley soaps. I didn't see any fairies, or wood elves, or even hobbits, but I could have been in a Tolkein landscape.

On the way back from the woods, I stopped off to give Nina's friend A my copy of Someone Likes Yogurt (the DVD that has Richard Herring talk about the possibility of putting a live trout into the vagina of a 16 year old girl) for his birthday, but I will order myself a new one. A is 18 today, so I can now say I have known him 'man and boy'. I only want to say that because I find the phrase apposite and nostalgic all at once. The DVD was for the 'man' A, I also gave him a jumbo pack of Swizzlers sweets for the 'boy' who I hope will never entirely grow up.

Someone suggested I should put in links to other websites. I don't know how to do that properly, but if you can't Google for yourself:

http://www.richardherring.co.uk/ I think you can find Facebook and Youtube on your own, the clue is in the name.

Saturday 25.4.09

I haven't blogged for ages, and there's no excuse. I haven't done much of anything. I bit of reading, a bit of housework, a lot of music I used to listen to in my early teens. The sunshine, and H being at home have lulled me, but I ran one of the depression tests, and I'm glad to say I'm not numbed out, just lazy. No, the test didn't say that. I am vowing to do better.

Today, Nick and I went to Birmingham. I had a fancy for a wonder around the market to buy some cheap fruit & veg. Its a long way to go to buy some carrots, and Nick raised his eyebrows at the craziness, but came along. The drive gave us the chance to chat about his recent visit to Cornwall for his Auntie's funeral. I had missed him but was glad he had spent some quality time with his Mum and Dad. Naturally though, we mostly talked about Nick's work. That was Ok though.

Birmingham was super-busy. At the Bull Ring shopping centre there were loads of smart young people each with many gloss-paper carrier bags. Apart from the heat and sunlight bouncing off the glass, it could have been the pre - Christmas rush. Down the hill in the outdoor market, there was the warm scent of ripening fruit. It is unchanged from my first visit with my college and Brummie friend Julie twenty years ago. There is theatre and drama, sometimes the spice of danger as conflicts flare. I've always loved markets, and feel sad that my go at having a market stall was pretty unsuccessful. I'm glad I gave it a go though, at least I know now. We got loads of stuff, but mysteriously, there were no tomatoes to be bought at any price. Good carrots though.

This evening I met up with my Mum who was staying on the University of Warwick conference campus at Radcliffe House. I had been there in a working capacity myself once. Looking around at the strategically placed lamps and the ficus trees, and the help-yourself-to-coffee machines, I can't believe I ever interpreted being in such places as having 'made it'. Over my Mum's shoulder, I watched the delegates get animated as the drinks soaked in, listened to the chatter get louder, spotted the climbers and the creepers. I do miss the social status that having a good job brings, but not the petty attempts to ingratiate and impress. I am conscious that if I go back into education with a view to getting a proper job again, I will have to do at least a little of that. Can I, or will I remain a shouldda-bin and never was? There is a sense that I'm on the cusp one way or the other. Its like the plot turning in a dull detective novel.

On Facebook, there was a blast from the past in the form of old college friend P. We had one of those live chats that I'm not too proficient in. I apologised for my behaviour the last time we saw each other, he was gracious. It was a nice chat, given the two decade time lapse, and more comfortable than I would have expected. That's what an impulsive 'hi' can do, I should try to be as courageous in future. I invited P to phone us, and there was a half hour window when I thought he might. It was after midnight though, and he elected not to as he was tired - or, he 'chickened out' I might say if I was feeling less charitable, which I'm not. He seems as sweet and likeable as ever, and the chance to make good on our last meeting has meant a lot to me. I in the 80's I was an unkind fool. Now, I am just a fool.

Tuesday 31.3.09

A day of nostalgia chatting to S on Facebook. We bonded over Cornwall County Council's music fro primary schools programme (we both played the flute) in 1978. She was my best friend outside of school from 1979 to 1983. We would meet up at the school gates and walk back to her house where her Mum would serve domestic normality and home made coffee cake. Best cake I ever tasted. Ever, ever, ever. Puberty and the early teens. Orangey-gold makeup and green hair gel, and newfangled mousse. Clothes, but not so many, more the dream of fashion. Boys found out about through gossip and two inch novels by Jackie Collins, pages with the sex scenes folded over. Singing along to Meatloaf (we both still know the words). Impressing each other and egging each other on. Venturing out to the Radio One Roadshow, and missing the bus back from the beach.

We were still friends when she introduced me to Nick in 1984, although growing apart by then, I was at a different school, she had made different friends. I still loved her though for her easy cheerfulness, her confidence around the boys that swarmed around her, her glow of self. Of course, the boys, college for her and sixth form for me, and both of us moving out of Truro finished it. So the rest was marriage, children, love and the history of my life. She came to our wedding reception in 1988, just the same as ever, then we lost touch.

We re-established contact last year, but it was a bit awkward, I think because on my side, I disclosed too much stridently, too soon. On her side, she sent me Facebook Faeries. But, when we get to chatting back and forth as we have today, its fine. I really would like to meet up with her again, and with K, another friend who was my best friend at school. K who let me copy her in maths, who introduced me by proxy to the concept of serious injury, who had a sense of fairness and giving everyone the chance, and who, as it turns out is more sentimental about me than I deserve.

So, today, between my efforts to write something funny, ferry an over-stressed Nick to meetings, and to make a fair enough fish pie, I've thought of my old friends. I thought of how they shaped me, and what I learned from them. It made it a good day.

Just as a follow-up to my recent despair at the rancid plot lines of Holby City, today's was a corking episode. My children talked through it, naturally, but you can't have everything.