Remember when you could smoke on trains? Remember when you could buy
ten silk cut AND a whole pint of beer for a fiver? Remember when you
would wear a tiny skirt underneath a long one and then pull the long one
off as soon as college was out and you
were free to get onto the (smoking) train and hang out with boys?
Perhaps that last bit was just me, (and any other girl who has just been
released from a convent into a co-ed sixth form).
Tonight I am
backtracking to the heady days of the late nineties,
when on my very first day at sixth form college, Fritha and I first
met. I got onto the train, a little nervously as I did not know a soul,
grabbed a seat in the corner of the (smoking) carriage and set about
trying to look cool. Although hard to believe now,
the smoking thing was really true, and honest to goodness, you couldn't
SEE for all the puffing cigarettes inside that locomotive. But it
wasn't long before I heard a voice calling to me through the volcano;
"Hey chick, haven't seen you before! I'm Fritha,
who are you?" I wafted the smoke away, and behind it found the coolest
looking girl I had ever laid eyes on, smiling at me. And that was the
beginning. The beginning of all the adventures. Just the start of all
the train trips, road trips, and plane trips,
sleepovers, fancy dress parties and video shoots (another time), house
parties, pub parties and rave parties. The begining of a friendship
which evolved from that train carriage, through our college days, on
through our uni days and into our twenties, stretched
on into our considerably more sensible thirties (although I speak for
myself only here), and into our here and now, the mid thirties. I am
glad I remember the moment we first met, because truth be told, nowadays
I can't remember her ever not being in my life
and heart.
Fast forward eighteen or so years and you'll see us,
still together, arms linked, and battling the wind on a freezing cold
beach in Cornwall on New Year's Day. Having just enjoyed a particularly
special week's holiday in a perfect-for-us
holiday home in Polzeath (organised, as usual, by hers truly) with our
best pals, we were feeling blue about going home. As we mulched along
the wet sand, laughing hysterically at my eldest's suggestion of getting
an ice cream (whaddaya want - hypothermia?!)
we chatted about her hopes for the year ahead. Having spent a year
living at home after the painful end of an intense relationship, her
wounds were healing, her heart was mending, and it was time to move back
to London, to be back in the hub of her work. As
talk of rent and mortgages progressed (thirties chat v different to
smoky carriage teen chat, no?) we moved onto the exciting topic of my
own dire financial situation (caused by insane cost of
childcare/house/food/life). My fella and I had been advertising
for a lodger for a while, but had still to hear an enthusiastic
response. We had travelled from the small town of Indifferent (surely
the cute pictures of the kids haven't uploaded correctly?) and had just
arrived on the outskirts of the city of Offended.
Enough was enough. We were officially pissed. Not one person had
enquired about our ad. Not one person wanted to share our house! Our
close to the Northern line/Common/curry houses of Tooting, family house!
Even with two noisy/sticky children, smudgy floors,
scribbled on walls AND mice thrown in to the deal. So imagine my
excitement when my phone buzzed (despite shocking Cornish reception,
must be a sign) and a lovely, sparkly, young, single, normal sounding
lady doctor (Ooooo), asked if she could come and see
the room the next day. Whoopeeee! All our troubles were over! I could
move back up from Sainsbury's basics to regular, normal, non orange
products! We could perhaps even get the odd Taste the Difference item on
weekends! As I chattered on about this doctor
goddess/new BFF to be, Fritha went quiet. "I wonder if she'll have a
cool dog?" She asked. At that point, her own little canine beauty
bounded on past us up the beach. "What if you wanted a lodger with a
dog?" She asked. Blank stare from me. Confused (told
you I was simple), I stared at her expectantly. "What if I was your
lodger?!" she finally chirped, her impatience with me smothered by her
own excitement over the suggestion. I'm pretty sure that the subsequent
howls, screeches and yelps of joy that erupted
from us both were only audible to bats in the surrounding beach caves
and possibly any nearby wolves (do they have wolves in Cornwall? Must
google). Hubby was absolutely delighted ('do dogs catch mice?') and she
moved in the next day.
Welcome to blogging... although I'm newer to this then you! Oh - and our blogs look remarkably similar...
ReplyDelete