Old Friends

 Thirty six years has flown by, and between us we’ve had four husbands, seven children, lots of laughs and quite a few too many tears. In our twenties, we bonded as young staff nurses ( and occupational therapist) and supported each other through the adventures of young adulthood. Tracey still looks like Sophia Loren and wears a smile that can almost make you cry with its warmth. Ally remains the quirky one, with a sharp brain and wit to match and I felt at home , as I always did, listening to them banter and laugh about the last thirty years of news. 

For once, a long time ago, I was that quiet shy man. The one who had never been to the Opera. The one that hadn’t had a relationship that was fraught and adult and interesting. I soaked up their energy like a sponge and I grew as a person and as a professional in 1980s York that was filled with music, and drink, and socialising and laughter, and of friendships that mattered.

We missed Betty’s, a suicide on the train line had made me unfortunately late, ( how apt it was a probably a mental health problem which affected our reunion) but this morning I took myself off to Betty’s alone and sat in the window with my tea and fat rascal before getting the train home