On Saturday I went to Reighton, near Scarborough, on an exceedingly busy train full of York race-goers, to visit my oldest friend before she emigrates to Australia.
Our parents were (and still are) friends, so I have always known her. For years now she has lived in London so we’ve only ever really hooked up on joint visits back to Scarborough or when I have managed to drag myself darn sarf.
Tomorrow she and her youngest child are leaving for a new life in the antipodes. For a brand new golden gaytime if you will. (Well worth the 23 hour journey to Oz just to be able to ask the ice cream man for a Golden Gaytime if I’m honest).
One of those rare friends that you don’t always see. That you don’t speak to or text all the time, but when you meet up it’s like you only saw each other an hour ago. (If you have any of those friends, love them, cherish them and keep that shit up y’all!)
Because of her, I have an eclectic taste in music – she introduced me to rock in the 80’s whilst she also used to sing along with me to hip hop and house music.
We still laugh about buying ‘brown drops’ in the local shop. About fighting over the velvet red riding hood cloak at nursery school (I bought her one as a leaving gift which I have insisted she wears on the plane all the way to Melbourne – I need pictures as evidence BTW.) The sole kitten of one of her cats is our cat Pepper – fed by her every 2 hours when the mother was still at the vets recovering from an emergency C-section.
It was her who was with me – doubled up and almost weeing with laughter – when the Bman slipped on dogshit during a water fight in the street and slid underneath a parked car in our teens. The very thought of it still makes me chuckle.
RaRa skirts and connies, pineapple hairdo’s, wearing socks with kitten heel shoes, sneaking peeks at her dad’s 1970s porn mag collection at Hampton Road (that’s right Mother). Making lists on sleepovers of which boys we liked and sharing a love of Matt Dillon, Keifer Sutherland and the 2-Coreys and films like ‘The Outsiders’.
Ever grateful for her skinny arms being able to slide up inside the fag machine in the arcade on Scarborough seafront to steal me a pack of Regal diddies and ever grateful for being the most glamorous bridesmeaid ever, and I am still sorry for not asking you in the first place (I just thought you wouldn’t want to get all Shirley Girlied up).
I am so proud of her for saving up for the past 2 years to fulfill her dream of moving to Oz with her man. Good luck Maverick Matchstick Mekon and look after yourself and enjoy your new adventures.
Now I just need to save up to come out and annoy you.