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

Read More

The Greatest Dancer - It Isn't Me!

Sunday afternoons in the winter, watching the ‘Hollywood Musical’ at the home of my school-friend, Lorna, were very happy times. It was cosy, relaxing in front of the coal fire, drinking tea or sometimes hot chocolate while Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire had us mesmerised. It didn’t matter which musical was on, there was dancing and Lorna, her mum and I wished we could do it. Sometimes we would try to spin each other round or make a few steps up – not much space in the living room – we would lose balance and end up in a heap of laughter. It was simple pleasures for two fourteen year olds sharing an interest. Not surprisingly, neither of us became dancers, apart from a few twirls round our handbags when we were older. Great memories. R.I.P., Lorna.

As for the greatest dancer, I think I’ve established that it is certainly not me, but not for the lack of trying. From a young age I pestered to go to dancing class, when I decided that I wanted to be a ballerina, quite a common aspiration for little girls in the 1950s. I remember the disappointment of not being given a frilly tutu but I soon accepted being in the tap class and loved my noisy tap shoes. Apart from loving the sound, I couldn’t get the hang of it. I couldn’t follow instructions, even literally one step at a time. I just wanted to tap my feet but not in any particular order. I was probably too young or awkward, but the teachers didn’t give up on me straight away. They were planning a little concert and chose me to be the Pink Toothbrush and someone else to be the Blue Toothbrush as we did a simple tap dance to Max Bygraves recording of ‘I’m a Pink Toothbrush’. I don’t remember how far we got into it, but it didn’t happen. One of the teachers gave my mum what would be my costume. It was pieces of something pink, later I knew it was seersucker. It had been cut out from a pattern and just needed sewing together, apparently. My mother did many things but sewing dancing costumes was not amongst her skills. Popping a button back on or repairing a hem was about her limit, so she would task the costume to my dressmaking grandmother. Before that happened, dancing class and I parted company as it was decided to be not my forte. Many years later, I was helping my grandmother to sort out my late mother’s things and there, in its paper bag, was the fabric for my dancing costume.

In my teens and still at school, I escaped to London as much as I was allowed during the holidays. An aunt, uncle and cousins lived in Roehampton and were always happy to have me to stay. I usually travelled on my own by train and my aunt would meet me at Euston station. One such visit, I met Kathy, who was the family’s au pair, close in age to me. She was, well, still is, lovely. We are still in touch. Kathy didn’t speak much English then and I didn’t speak German – she’s Swiss-German, but we became friends and managed to communicate well enough. We went to the cinema one evening to see ‘The Boyfriend’. I really liked Twiggy and enjoyed the musical, but it was Christopher Gable who stole the show for me and I couldn’t take my eyes off his dancing. He made it look to easy, like Fred and Ginger did. That was my introduction to the ballet dancer Christopher Gable. He became a director of the Northern Ballet and was involved in ‘A Simple Man’, the ballet about L.S.Lowry. The combination of the greatest dancer and my favourite artist.

My poem,

When I was a child, I longed to dance
And I was given chance after chance
By a kind lady at dancing class,
Who thought I was a sweet little lass.

I was picked to be the ‘Pink Toothbrush’
My mum could make my costume, no rush.
It was all cut out, ready to sew,
Pink seersucker with satin bow.

The teachers had to admit defeat,
I was cute enough, but two left feet.
I tried my best, all the ‘heel and toe’
Tap, tap, tapping, but I had to go.

PMW 2024

Thanks for reading, Pam x

Read More