To make friends or not?

I don't belong here...

I believe there is a book out at the moment by Elizabeth Day Friendaholic, Confessions of a Friendship Addict. The author claims she is addicted to making friends which is an interesting idea. Do you feel you have to have a host of people following your every move on FaceBook or Twitter? Loads of phone calls, texts, from various people? Otherwise you don't feel you're really living?

Now, I have to ask you, what do you understand under the word "friendship"? Is it your Best Friend Forever, as I discovered BFF is short form for. (I did mean to end that sentence with a preposition, thanks). If so, what do you understand under the term "friendship"? Someone you meet for coffee every so often and have a moan with about, you know, the big one: Life: the husband, boyfriend, boss, colleague and all their faults? Or is it someone you chat to on the street, attend the same gym, see them at the bus stop, wherever, you're always glad to see them but not really close. Or the person you think, "I really have to tell her/him this, she/he'll be so pleased," when something good happens to you - promotion at work, you finally meet the Right Person and they ask you to marry them, - big stuff like that. And you know that the other person is going to be delighted, excited for you. Or the friend who can tell you that you are making a horse's rear end of yourself and make you see where you are going wrong and still leave you in no doubt that they care about you despite all that? Or the friend who lives far away and you only get to see each other once or twice a year but it's like you saw them yesterday because you can pick up the threads so easily?

Depending what you answer, I think it might be an idea to change "friend" into "acquaintance" I have friends - a few - from way back when we shared our first flat together, I have friends from my London flat life. These are really my closest friends. We've been through it all, the heartaches, the laughter, grief at the loss of a loved one, and we've kept in touch all down the years. We don't need to pretend to each other. We remember having a ball on New Year's Eve and we remember being on our own on that date another time and listening to the party next door and hearing the church bells and ships' sirens heralding in the New Year and feeling like we were the only people on the planet who were alone. I like to remember that particular time, I must admit, it signalled a "low" in our lives but we came out the other side laughing. I know I can still tell my friends anything or they can tell me anything that is on their minds or on my mind and we will understand each other and we won't judge.

I have acquaintances, too. I enjoy their company, we go to the theatre, the cinema, concerts, day excursions, restaurants together. I know them well, can guess their reaction to situations, their take on things. But we have not experienced the depths and heights which I have shared with my close friends. And it is this depth which forges the deepest friendship.This is not a reflection on acquaintances, they are very important in everyone's life.  

Many years ago some famous philosopher said that you are lucky if you have more than three friends during your lifetime. Yes, as I get older, I begin to understand that. I don't feel the need to go out and make undying friendships every week. In fact, friendships grow on you and are a part of your life before you recognise it. And that's nice, it's the way it should be.

Here's to close friends, acquaintances and all the people inbetween. Without you all, the world would be a far bleaker place.

 

Just Visiting

Outside it is cold with a bitter wind and the rain is pattering against the windows. Time to snuggle into a deep comfortable chair by the fire and go on a literary visit.  Who shall I call on tonight?  Ah yes, the Dashwoods.  I haven’t been to see them for quite a while.  I’ll just take a seat in the sitting room of their little cottage and listen to Mrs. Dashwood and Elinor chatting about a likely visit from Edward.  Marianne is playing the piano softly in the background and no doubt dreaming of that dastardly Willoughby.  I expect Sir John and Mrs. Jennings, his garrulous mother-in-law, will call.  Sir John with his naïve kindness has won my heart and unlike Marianne I don’t mind what she called his lack of culture and polished manners. I like Mrs. Jennings, even if she and Sir John can be annoying with their silly banter about beaux.  When Marianne was so ill, she really came up trumps and almost supplied the place of a mother.  I’d like to see Colonel Brandon pop in too, although all his attention will be on Marianne.  His conversation is always interesting.  I’ll sneak away before he tells Elinor his sad history.

Where shall I go next?  Emma Woodhouse is always welcoming and Knightley is as entertaining as Colonel Brandon.  I’ll have to resist taking a basin of that “thin but not too thin” gruel with Mr. Woodhouse while I’m listening to the preparations for the ball at The Crown.  I hope to meet Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill and I mustn’t miss that happy couple, Mr. and Mrs. Weston.  It will be a fun evening and not even the presence of the vicar, Mr. Elton and his pushy wife can spoil it. I’ll just smile politely when Mrs. Elton goes on about her sister’s prospective visit in the barouche-landau.

When I’ve left Highbury and the oh-so-happy Miss Bates, I’ll pop in to see Elizabeth Bennett and her family.  Her father will be in the library and will no doubt have some droll remark to make.  He is one of my all time favourites! I’ll be at Rosings to hear Darcy’s proposal to Elizabeth and her spirited refusal and then smile over her embarrassment at meeting him again unexpectedly at Pemberley.  And I mustn’t miss the scene with Mr. Bennett when Elizabeth tells him she wishes to accept Darcy.  I’ll stay in the library long enough to listen in to Elizabeth defending him against her father’s disapproval before sneaking upstairs to partake of her mother’s raptures at having a daughter well married.  Maybe I’ll look in on Jane and Bingley but I doubt I’ll visit the Wickhams. 

On another night, I’ll slip across the Atlantic and take a peek at Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy round their worktable and hope that Laurie Lawrence will drop by.  I might even go with Meg to the ball where she is so admired but so unhappy, or perhaps I’ll attend Jo when she goes to have her beautiful hair cut.  I’ll cry over all their trials and little heartaches until their father comes home from the war and then I can bid them a fond farewell as they sit round the fire, united in tenderness.

While I am on this side of the Atlantic I’ll take a trip out West and drop in on the Denmeades.  The last part of the journey there has to be taken on horseback. I can almost taste the scent of pine and wild sumach as we ride through those deep woods.  There will be a warm welcome at the homestead even if those hounds start barking.  If all the family is at home it will be pretty crowded round the table for supper. Mrs. Denmeade and Ally will fix something wholesome for us all to eat and we might get some of Ed’s wild bee honey. I’d like to be able to stay in that tent the Denmeade boys fixed up for Lucy and her sister.  It’s so cosy there in winter with the wood burning stove.  Before we retire for the night I’ll stand beside Lucy at the cabin door as she pays her respects to the towering red Rimrock and the stars glistening in the frosty sky above it. 

On very cold nights I’ll follow Mole, when bored with his sleepy companion, he heads off to the forbidden Wild Wood.  I’ll keep a respectful distance as he gets deeper and deeper into danger.   I can hear the scuttling of other frightened animals and then the Terror of the Wild Wood, the dreaded pattering and whistling.  I’ll drop down beside Mole in the hollow of that old beech tree and hope they, whoever they are, do not find us. What a relief when Rat comes to the rescue and we discover the door to Badger’s dwelling.  I’m a child again as I revel in the feeling of comfort and security in Badger’s underground home.  I love those down-at-heel slippers of his and his cosy living room and the little hedgehogs having breakfast in the morning.

Yes, I’ve read these stories over and over again.  Old books are like old friends, friends with whom you can slip off your shoes and stretch out by the fire.  Friends who know you through and through and still like you!  Friends to whom you’ve told your stories time and again but who still listen patiently.  Friends who have told their stories to you over and over again.  That is the lure of the literary journey, a journey to be taken at any time, but especially on cold nights in the winter when it brings back that feeling of warm security of childhood.

In order of appearance: 

Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Pride and Prejudice, all by Jane Austen,  

Little Women by Lousia May Alcott,

Under the Tonto Rim by Zane Grey and

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham

Who goes there?

I read the other day that a friend of Prince Charles told the media that he (Prince Charles) had seven eggs cooked for him every morning and then decided on which one he would eat, depending on how cooked or not it was.  We are assured that this is a myth and the Prince does no such thing and I can hear a collective sigh of relief all over the egg-eating world at this very important discovery.

 It set me thinking, though.  Who was this friend who blabbed about something about which he/she obviously knew as much as a reader of a secondhand copy of Hello at the hairdressers?  How do you define who a friend is?  If you are a celebrity you'll have lots of "friends" spilling your guts to the media any time you have half a personal crisis.  "Friends of the couple, who wish to remain anonymous say ...."  What kind of a friendship is that? 

So what is a friend?  For me, a friend is someone who knows when to keep their mouth shut.  Someone who doesn't dish the dirt on me or give away my darkest secrets - I haven't got many, in case you're worried.  And someone who makes me feel good about myself most of the time while still being able to give me a verbal kick up the derriere if I get out of line. By definition, this is an "intimate" friend - again another invention of the media.  I either have friends of the above calibre or I have "acquaintances".  I don't expect too much from acquaintances.  They can be lots of fun to be with - people I really like - but I'd never tell them anything I'd regret telling to even the cat in the morning.  And I might not like it if they criticize me behind my back, but hey, I probably do the same to them.

The most hurtful thing is to consider someone a friend and then discover they've been tearing you to pieces as happily as a terrier with an old slipper.  That's happened to me a few times in my life - can't say I've learned from it, either. I have the feeling that it happens to celebrities a lot - otherwise it would mean colossal job-loss on those glossy gossip magazines even with all the eye-boggling "confessions" and interviews with the rich and famous.  You have to have a quote from a "friend" of Brangelina or Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson or any other celeb who migh be currently in the spotlight for whatever reason.

In the old days the sentry guarding the gate to the city said something like "who goes there - friend or foe?"  It would be good sometimes if we could ask this question of those around us - not that I think anyone would admit to "foe."  But perhaps a telling silence might suffice.