Tag Archives: best friends

Bon Anniversaire


Today would have been my dear friends 30th birthday. I will not be sad today, I absolutely refuse to be sad that he is no longer with us today, because I am sad on all the other days. This post is a little bit of reminiscence, for all the happy days we shared.

My dearest, beautiful friend, placed enjoyment at the top of the priorities list. All of my memories of him include laughter, I hear a back-drop of laughing whenever I hear his name. We spent a lot of time laughing, at ourselves, at other people, at the ridiculous nature of life, at our poor driving skills. We found humour in dark situations and hilarity at sombre moments. I often pulled stomach muscles from laughing so hard and for so long.

We photographed peoples ankles, (without them knowing) just for fun.

We regularly had what we called ‘Self Appreciation Days’. Whole days dedicated to appreciating ourselves and each other. An entire day calling ourselves nothing but brilliant, and believing it.  Indulgent? I know, but oh-so good for the soul! 

He was very tall and I am short. Hours of amusement were spent in front of the mirror, laughing at how ridiculous (but still beautiful) we looked.

We never had just a glass of wine, always a bottle, and particularly loved the Winton pubs policy of buy two glasses of wine and get the rest of the bottle  free.

We prided ourselves on being professional smokers, and would smoke ourselves silly. Each cigarette would be lit with much fuss and ceremony, inhaling and holding it aloft, instantly becoming more glamorous and sophisticated with the Consulate in our hands.

The local taxi firm was very good to us. Long into the night, after much wine had been consumed, we would call a taxi and ask them to fetch us cigarettes and bring them to the house, which they always did. We loved to greet the taxi drivers by wearing ridiculous outfits, including a hat, especially a faux-fur dalmatian one.

Victims of our late-night phoning frenzy will recall with bemusement that we used up whole tapes on answering machines with our various witticisms and views in general.

We lived at a hundred miles per hour, rushing from party to pub to party in a social whirl. But sometimes we would just stop, lock the doors and watch re-runs of Spitting Image, laughing ourselves stupid. Or write poetry that got more melancholic as we went late into the night. Sometimes we would listen to Whitney Houston’s Didn’t We Almost Have It All and cry and wail until our eyes were sore and faces all puffy, we thought at the time we were crying because of the deep and touching lyrics but really it was because we were drunk.

Once, we had to pay for a taxi with a bag of satsumas. This still makes me laugh out loud (I am giggling now) whenever I think about it.

Neither of us believed in the mundane, every day chores such as tidying up. We would simply cover up mess or in some cases, cordon off the room with security tape and not venture back in there again.

How we wished we could sing, though we were not blessed with such a voice. We won £30 in a karaoke competition for being so awful and were heckled throughout the whole eight minutes of American Pie, though it did not put us off.

Champagne and cider, red wine and minted lamb, lurpak salted butter and all things bad for you were consumed with relish. Having the music on too loud and driving too fast, writing offensive poems and using the work phone to make personal calls, staying out late and skiving off work, skiving off life, yelling and shouting and laughing our heads off, we did everything in excess. The world was there to be enjoyed and we did exactly that, it is a sadder and poorer place without him in it. Happy birthday to him.  x



This is Pamplemousse.

She is ridiculous, on so many levels. She fancies herself as a comedian (which she is), thinks she is always right, has a superior attitude to everyone, never responds to treats, is fussy, rude, farts like a trooper, has no idea about personal space, chases cyclists, cats and terriers, never, ever does as she is told, embarrasses me always, hates early mornings and likes to sleep a lot.


On the plus side, Pamplemousse will often respond to polite requests, is fiercely loyal, guards the house and me (although the chimney sweep was not amused by this), loves riding in all cars, is kind to my parrots, enjoys trips to the bank and showing off. She is hysterically funny and able to make her demands easily understood by anyone. I think she is very beautiful and I am extremely proud of her.

I realise that her name is unusual, but she is an extraordinary dog. Her name is rarely shortened, always used in full but she herself will insist on being called; Mrs P Moose when she is at the vets, The Pampster when she is on guard, Moosey-Woosey when she is on the rampage around the house and garden, especially when doing a brilliant version of the wall of death, and Pomple-Le-Moose when she is feeling sophisticated. She speaks basic french (like me) and fluent italian (which I don’t) in a nod to her impeccable European heritage.

She likes to be sung to, with songs being given a unique version to include her name, for example; “My Moosey Don’t Care” to the tune of Ticket to Ride by the Beatles, “hey Moosey-Woosey, stop picking on me” to the tune of Stupid Cupid by Mandy Moore and my personal favourite “You’re lovely to me yes you are, you’ve dribbled and slobbered and ruined our car” to the tune of You’re Lovely to me by Lucky Jim.

This post was inspired by: http://myparentsarecrazierthanyours.com/2011/03/28/i-got-99-problems-but-a-dog-aint-one-41/

True Friends

I made bread yesterday, for the first time ever. It was fun and I will definitely be doing it again. Whilst making the bread I got to thinking about the time I missed out on making bread at school because I was ill. I also missed dissecting a fish that day. I was seven years old.

My best friend at the time was a girl called Sara. We were really close and Sara knew and understood me like no one else, she therefore knew how much I was looking forward to dissecting that fish and how disappointed I was to miss out. Two days later I went for a sleep over at Saras house. She was really excited because she had a suprise for me and I couldn’t wait to find out what it was. We had to hide the suprise from her mother and so went to the bathroom together with the mystery bag holding the treat. I opened the brown paper bag to find a very stiff, slightly crispy and a little whiffy, dead fish! Sara had taken a fish from school that was meant for dissecting and brought it home for me. I was thrilled. Truly, I was so touched that she had done that for me. How kind. Sara had risked the wrath of the teacher by stealing one of the fish for me, then hidden it and kept it a secret until I was able to visit. Even to this day it fills me with warmth that a friend had been so kind. Sara was disappointed that the fish wasn’t in perfect condition but I was over the moon with it. She then helped me to dissect it by showing me what she did during the lesson at school and I was able to participate in what was one of the school highlights for me.

As I have grown older, true friendship has been shown in many different ways but I don’t think there has ever been so selfless an act as that one. I will never forget how much my friend loved me at that time. Nor do I know of anyone who has been so happy to receive a dead and decomposing fish as I was.