Fish Fingers and Friends

I MET my friend Laura for lunch recently at The Captains Wife. Walking across the car park, the wind did it’s best to blow us about, but entering the sanctuary of the sea-view pub, I felt instantly cuddled and cosy.

We ordered fish finger sandwiches, delicious comfort food as outside, the Bristol Channel whipped itself into a frenzy and rain rattled against the windows. Laura is a perpetually practical friend, a brilliant babysitter; my sage when it comes to all things techy; a whizz at car maintenance; cake decorator extraordinaire and is a warm, funny, loyal, lovely woman.

Later that same day, I collected the children from school and we headed to Coconuts soft-play, to meet my friend Amanda and her children. Entering the cavernous, brightly lit world from the wet car park, I was met with a wall of noise, of shrieking and giggling.

As Amanda and I bought coffee, ordered four plates of fish fingers and curly fries, two with salad, two with beans, the children raced off to play. We embarked upon a chitty-chat of epic proportions having not seen each other for nearly two weeks there was much in the way of life, love and the universe to discuss and dissect.

Amanda is a woman I admire greatly. Busy, involved, engaged in the world; passionate about and loyal to those privileged to be her friend; an unstinting cheerleader of my writing; a committed foodie and such a naturally witty woman with an insight and intelligence she is too modest to credit herself with.

When at once the food arrived, as if by magic, or at least the mystically powerful pull of curly fries, so too did four very sweaty children. They tucked into their food at one end of the table as we continued to nurse coffee at the other end.

Watching them I noticed the smiles, the interested nods, the flickering frowns, the random chuckles, the widened eyes, and the occasional affectionate brush of a hand. In this little dinner party of seven, eight and nine year olds were all the complexities and intricacies of any of my adult friendships.

There was genuine affection, care, interest, curiosity, warmth. As young as they all are they were developing an appreciation and a value of friendships.

Yes, the gifts that Amanda and I exchange tend to be more wine based and less Lego; the places we choose to go less brightly coloured and I shouldn’t assume, but I suspect a friend is more likely to give me a Carrie Elspeth bracelet than a loom band, but, in that time spent sharing a meal, talking, laughing and caring, I was heartened that they were developing an understanding of the importance and value of good friends.

As stormy seas rage, as hurricanes batter us both actual and metaphorical, at home and abroad, it has never been more important to talk, to share, to understand, to support and to let our friends know how much we care.