Yesterday I was perched on the edge of my cheeseboard, contemplating the fromage-related events of the day, when I was contacted by an old friend.
Now, when I say old, I don't mean old, obviously, because I want to live and not lose all my fingers to a tragic 'accident'. Whereas I have aged in a cheesy way by becoming more veiny and dimpled and possibly gaining a smell which has a character all its own, my friend (or, as we shall call her 'Lin', because it's her name), has aged like wine, becoming more full-bodied and luscious. And expensive, but that's another story for another time and another website, one with 'GirlsGirlsGirls' in the title.
And this made me think. Which is quite a feat in itself, because it normally needs quite a large thunderstorm and the application of some greased electrodes to achieve this result.
How many of my old friends (still using the term to mean 'long time' and not 'aged', Lin, if you're reading this) am I still in touch with? And by 'in touch' I mean, you know, Christmas cards and phone calls and things and absolutely NOT standing around outside their houses with a long-lens trying to get a picture of them climbing out of the bath - apparently friendship and restraining orders are two seperate things! Who'd have guessed!
And then I answered my own question, which caused quite a few raised eyebrows and funny looks. Note to self - when answering own questions, probably best not to do it aloud whilst standing in queue at the bank - not many. There are a few who look me up on 'Cheesebook' now and again, (tagline 'come for the chat, stay for the crackers') and I occasionally catch fleeting glimpses of familiar-looking hairstyles dashing down the road away from me whenI turn around suddenly. But, apart from that, and the aforementioned full-bodied luscious one, most of my friends are new.
And then I worked out why.
And I'm really sorry.
I have to say at this point, I really didn't know what would happen if I pushed that giant button with the words 'School Demolition device - Do Not Press (unless you're the Head and it's been a really trying Friday)'. To me it was just a big red button.
I tripped, all right?
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