3rd January 2005
Hi all,
When you move a long way from home you have to accept certain things. Your favourite shops, restaurants and take-aways are no longer just around the corner. Your phone bill will be more expensive. You will buy more stamps than you used to for Christmas cards. Most of all though you realise what good friends you had there.
Right now is one of those times where that last fact is a bit harder to live with. Two of my best friends turn thirty within five days of each other: Nick Lay and Neil Taylor. Their birthdays sandwich the New Year like Palace's traditional annual defeats on Boxing Day and the third round of the F.A. Cup.
When I first knew them both their paths rarely crossed with each other. I had met Nick at Havant College and we already had established groups of friends from school. Neil was one of my more established friends. Nick came to be one as we jointly suffered the sticks and stones of 'A' Level General Studies: the "technically correct" Mark Bardell, "Araldite" Cliff Haskins, John "Right, now I'm the teacher" Hayes and even countless five-minute clips of the film "Fahrenheit 451".
As we grew older and each went to University so holiday time back home grew more and more precious, especially for me as my holidays were shorter than elsewhere (Middlesex University ran a 34 week year compared to the normal 30 - and we look back and wonder why we went to University from our jobs with four weeks off each year!). It was only common sense that we combined ourselves together for social activities, whether it be pitch 'n' putt, ten-pin bowling or something else.
Thinking back to those times reminds me what a wicked sense of humour they have both always had, usually in the style of subtle one-liners brought about through smart observations. Take for example Nick's remark to me upon seeing a group of boys all clad in tracksuits on a train platform in Tottenham in 1994: "Oh look, it's North 17!"
Nick has always been a bit quieter than his brother Pat (not difficult) but his observations are normally right on the mark. I've been the victim of these myself, most notably when we were playing pitch 'n' putt on my stag weekend. Nick light-heartedly asked me, "Do you wear anything that isn't Nike?" I was wearing a Nike tennis shirt, Nike shorts, Nike socks and Nike trainers. He had a point.
Neil and I go back a bit further, back to our days at secondary school when I used to swipe his ruler and pass it onto Stuart Garnett for swift destruction (Stuart Garnett's all-conquering ruler is something else I'll need to write about someday, although Neil and countless other victims won't thank me for it). It continued at college, where we used to "share" a locker (Neil used it occasionally, I almost lived by it), frequent the Meridian Centre and hone our Snooker skills. It survived our University years with Neil in Aberystwyth and me in North London. It has gone from strength to strength despite us now being separated by about 450 miles. Perhaps I'm easier to get on with from afar? (That's a rhetorical question, don't flood me with e-mails answering it.)
Regular readers will no doubt know Neil pretty well. He added to his legend in the early hours of New Year's Day by telling me, "My sister says she's got engaged, so I don't know what that's all about." (Er, perhaps she got engaged Neil?) The good thing is he has a great sense of humour, and doesn't mind poking fun at himself before anyone else.
One thing I've become glad of from all this distance away is how Neil and Nick have forged a friendship in their own right. Besides what the two of them get out of it I also get a much lower phone bill (or I did until Lorraine starting watching "This Morning" for the competitions). Of course they're sharing activities that only they can talk about. We can all talk about the time Pat asked, "What's an aphrodisiac?" (he thought it was similar to Afro-Caribbean) but only they can talk about the time Pat thought he saw a snake at a pitch 'n' putt course in Sussex.
I don't know if it is to do with when the likes of Neil and Nick became my friends (i.e. when we were all teenagers), but I haven't really struck up a bond like that with any guys up here. I've pondered a few theories (which will die with me, thanks for asking) but have come to the conclusion that history is pretty important in terms of male friendships. Shared memories, references. The ability to finish one-liners and each other's stories.
If I was still living in the south of England I've got a fair idea what I'd be doing. We'd split the difference, do something big to celebrate both their birthdays at once, as well as attending smaller occasions to celebrate them both individually. Of course being up here makes being there very difficult, and in this instance circumstances mean that it is impossible for me to be there.
Best wishes lads. Wish I could be with there to celebrate with you.
Have a good week!
Tony
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