A friend in need is a friend indeed...
This weekend we did many things, though mostly we went to Devon to see my aged P's and Grand P, who hadn't yet met Esme. Along the way we passed to wondrous Stonehenge, and it got me all remembering. Many, many moons ago, when the Earth was young, mammoths ranged over what is now Surrey and the ice caps came down to just past Penge. I was a teenager, I had hair, and in those days, long before I'd met Antonia, and before Esme was a twinkle in any eye, I had a love. It was a big love. One of those big, young, all-consuming loves that drive young men to drink and poetry. One day, my love done left me. As it turned out it wasn't the first or the last time that that particular love done left me, but at the time it was a mighty powerful 'my love done left me' moment. I did what any chap in my position would do and rang my mate. (Not that any chap would ring *my* mate, you understand, but a chap will turn to a fellow chap in times such as this, for solace and companionship). I can't remember the exact conversation, for this was many, many moons ago. It went something like this.
"Graham, she's left me!"
"Ah...yes....but she's done that before..."
"But this time she's really left me!"
"Ah.. yes..errrr.."
"Can we go for a drive?"
In those days when we all lived with our parents in deepest darkest South East Essex we often went for drives when upset, angry, annoyed (or any of those other emotions young men feel too much).
"Sure." says Graham, "Before or after the pub?"
"After!" says I, and it is arranged.
So we go to the pub. Graham stoically doesn't drink a drop, we meet some friends and they come with us.
We went to Stonehenge. Like this.
We got there at about 3 in the morning and drove into the car park. A very bemused security guard came and told us that it wasn't open. We'd forgotten in all the excitement that you couldn't just walk up to and around the stones any more. There were fences and visitor centres and the like. So we went and looked at Woodhenge, and the earthworks and fort at Old Sarum (where there wasn't a security guard - we ran up and down the moat and climbed a fence to get inside), eventually we went back to the Stonehenge car park at about 5am and poor Graham had a nap. We had a look about when it opened at 9. It was getting foggy and very cold. Then, rather tired out, we went home. As we were driving back frozen fog was building up ice on the wing mirrors. We went back round the other side of the M25 (like this) and did something near 400 miles, just to take my mind off things.
Now that's a proper friend, that is. Thanks Graham.
11 answers on a postcard...:
friends like that are few and far between. the word friend just doesn't cover it. It's what I've imagined a mate to be.
That is a interesting point you bring up Bob.
Some people do this:
1 - Bessie
2 - Friend
3 - Mate
4 - Acquaintance
others do this:
1 - Bessie
2 - Mate
3 - Friend
4 - Acquaintance
I think I'm in the former category myself. I tend to think of a mate as somebody I kind of know, they know me, but I probably don't see them more than once every 6 months. But that might just be me. If however anyone says, "Best Mate" to me I translate instantly what they are saying to "Best Friend" - I'm considerate like that.
Bob, I detect a forlorn note to this "what I've imagined a mate to be". Has no one ever driven you all the way around the M25?
nope.
but then, I'm not the kind of person that asks. I tend to bear my pain in silence.
I am the type that would do the driving, if asked.
my best friend (mate!) is a bit self centered. Deep at his core, there are things he wouldn't do if it interfered with something important to him. But he's been like that since we became friends 27 years ago. I know that about him and accept it. He's like a brother, and I love him as one.
That isn't to say that he and I haven't been on a few benders, etc. We have a lot of shared experiences to look back on and exagerate.
But to drop everything and drive me to hell and back...... I dunno.
My best (bessie?) mate now lives in Australia and I haven't heard from him for, ooh, blinking ages now it seems (roughly coinciding with the arrival of his first baby). That said, he is still absolutely and irrevocably my number one chum.
I'd imagine, for example, that if I were, for whatever obscure reason, to call him up at 3am and suggest that my pitiful existence would be made all the more palatable by the sudden arrival of a pizza from "that place in Newcastle we used to go to at 3am when we were students", he would be on the next flight to Blighty and delivering a steaming hot(ish) 15" super pepperoni special with extra olives to the front door (pausing only to scrounge the air fare from various relatives and call to check that I still hated anchovies) before you could say "hang on, it was only a metaphor".
He is truly a top man. And he changed his name to Fiskin. I'm still not sure why. Word.
I am the driver kind as well. Ian is the only person who has ever been my driver: he once drove a fifty-mile round trip to come and get me when I wrote off my last VW bus. We weren't even an item at the time. He's a nice chap, is Ian.
it is popular these days to say that your spouse is your best friend. I almost did, but didn't because our relationship includes friends, but is so much more. We met we immediately started spending all of our free time together. I proposed after 3 months and we were married at 6 months. I would like to think if the romantic thing hadn't happened with us the friendship thing would've.
I normally try to avoid the word 'mate', unless it's someone that I mate with. I have been blessed with some very fine friends over the years, and some rather good acquaintances, but I wouldn't mate with anyone but Antonia.
You make it sound like something involving bananas, swinging tyres, grunting, and mutual flea-removal ... oh wait, it is.
I can't imagine called anyone my Bessie.
These are great comments, btw.
Surely Bessie is a Great Aunt?
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