Friends A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed

 

Friends are the family we choose for ourselves. We become connected by common interests or something happens to throw us together. I’m lucky to have long-lasting and some life-long friends. I value very highly the times we share together. We laugh, we reminisce and collectively, we can remind each other of any bits we forget, especially now we are ‘grown ups.’

Last week, I enjoyed lunch out with three friends. We met at work in 1974. We joined at different times that year, as teenagers, and we’ve been together ever since. Life and work took us in different directions and away from each other, but we’ve always stayed connected. It’s great to get together and catch up. Three of us hit seventy last year, and the other one not too far behind, so knees, hips and general health come into the conversation. We laughed at a joke that we’d all collapsed over circa 1975, when a colleague had to escape the office before the punchline – she was laughing so much and a superior staff member was there – we didn’t want to get into trouble. We were the mostly well-behaved generation doing as we were told by seniors. I can’t remember exactly how long we worked together, but it was many fantastic years. One day, we each wrote down where we thought we’d be in ten years’ time. I think it was a small note book that got passed round. Our individual paragraphs will have been hilarious, and I don’t know what happened to the evidence, but ten years passed and we were still there. All good things come to an end and one by one we spread our wings but remain forever friends. And eventually, our lunch came to an end, after food, drinks and more drinks. An hour became two, then suddenly it was half past four and the sun was sliding down behind the trees. Farewell, until next time.

“This, too, will pass.” I’ve been the needy one for a while due to some tough times. Every day, I’ve been thankful for messages from friends checking in on me with good wishes, advice and offers of help. They keep me smiling and working towards better times. Reliable, trustworthy, caring people. These are my friends, small in number, but top quality. I know I’m privileged. I also know that it is important to be a good friend in return. My gang can rely on me to be there for them.

I found this poem,

Friends for Life 

We are friends
I got your back
You got mine,
I’ll help you out
Anytime!
To see you hurt
To see you cry
Makes me weep
And wanna die
And if you agree
To never fight
It wouldn’t matter

Who’s wrong or right
If a broken heart
Needs a mend
I’ll be right there
Till the end
If your cheeks are wet
From drops of tears
Don’t worry
Let go of your fears
Hand in hand
Love is sent,
We’ll be friends
Till the end!!!

Angelica N. Brissett (b.1991)

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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Phobias

Phobias and Other Fears: Chopsticks, Teenagers and Peanut Butter Sticking to the Roof of Your Mouth

 

Phobia: noun. Definition - an extreme or irrational fear of or aversion to something.

 

This got me thinking. I wondered whether I had a phobia. I wracked my brains. Spiders? Harmless skittering little creatures (unless falling on one's head in the middle of the night.) Birds, bats and other flying things? Not keen on the fluttering but hardly terrified to the point of panic like my daughter. Loud bangs? Annoying but not distressing. Clowns? Just not particularly funny. I concluded I hadn't got a phobia. There are lots of things I dislike, a few things I hate, and one or two fears, but no phobias as far as know.

 

However, in the course of my research for this blog post I discovered the most comprehensive list of phobias known to man.  Hundreds upon hundreds of them, seemingly irrational, sometimes trivial, random, strange and incomprehensible to the non sufferer, but each one representing a huge challenge to the phobic.

 

 

I wondered how on earth you would discover you had arachibutyrophobia - fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth.  I know phobias shouldn't be ridiculed but at least that's one phobia that's pretty easy to body swerve. 'No thanks,' to the peanut butter.  Do not approach the jar, and, if you do, certainly do not open it, spread it on your bread, eat it and wait ominously for it to coat the roof of your mouth.  Stick with Marmite - like it or hate it, it's a far safer option.

 

Then there's chirophobia - fear of hands.  That's a bit more difficult.  Hands are everywhere, including on the ends of your arms. How on earth do you cope with that one? Is it just bare hands?  I wonder if it's not a problem when gloves are worn or hands are in pockets? What about one's OWN hands? Is it ok if you carry on using them but just don't look at them? Do you have to have a cook, a cleaner and someone to wipe your bottom at all times?

 

Given a choice, I think I'd settle for consecotaleophobia - a fear of chopsticks. I mean, unless I worked in a Chinese restaurant how often would I  encounter these eating implements in my daily life? If I just steer clear of Wok Wow's on my way home from a night out I'll be fine. I pondered on the genesis of a phobia such as this.  Does it just rear up one night as you're about to get to grips with your beef noodles?  Or did you once accidentally poke yourself in the eye with a chopstick when going for a sweet and sour pork ball.

 

I'm sure some phobias apply to the majority of the population at times. Fear of teenager? Yes, I realise now, I suffered from ephebiphobia for most of the 1990s when I had three of them in the house. I just didn't know it had a name.  Similarly, soceraphobia (fear of parents-in-law) could be quite debilitating in the early years of marriage. I swear it developed swiftly after one particular visit, where, unasked, they were vociferous in their criticism of the dark brown paint we were slapping on the walls (in our defence, we were young art students and this was the 70s after all). With hindsight, they were probably right, but the soceraphobia was hard to shake off.

 

Just as I am congratulating myself on being phobia free for years, I discover, with a jolt of recognition: 

Disposophobia - fear of throwing out stuff. Hoarding.  

Last week's blog post dances before my eyes..... 

 

My name is Jill Reidy and I'm a disposophobic. 

No poem this week out of respect to any metrophobics looking in.....

Thanks for reading, Jill 

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